Real
by Salzab
Summary: COMPLETE. Nirn a real world. The OC kidnapped from Earth finds out the hard way to respect the impact they will have on lives of others. Journal based but with a huge twist. Many nods to Tropes and Lore. SPOILERS. Give it a look, read and review ty!
1. Azuras Whim

Authors Note: Ok this is my first fan-fic so be gentle with me! My main character isn't so much an OC hero/heroine but someone from Earth somehow ending up on a very real Nirn, in Cyrodiil as the prisoner, reacting as realistically as I'd imagine a person would. I managed to purposely avoid defining this unamed person by gender, so you the reader may consider seeing through his/her eyes (even when encountering the pervy Orc.)

This is mainly journal based from the perspective of a game player who has the misfortune of being noticed by an immortal, and learns things dont necessarily go as you might predict, and may not go well at all, when such beings have begun to involve theirselves with events that have not yet occured. When Earth has the misfortune of being noticed...  
As a running theme I'll reflect on the how game mechanics of magic and everyday living might be explained on such a world, how the OC grows and changes, and refer as subtly as I can to various tropes which occur in the games. Hope you spot them. Reviews greatly appreciated!

~This squiggle marks the start and end of each journal entry.~ Entries may continue over chapters. The reason OC finds time to write a diary so often in the midst of all this is because each entry is actually more a last testament. Each time deep down, they are hoping to be home again, woken from the nightmare, or expecting to die, the truth dying with them.

A little will be narration.

-Finally a little will be speech by other characters, Azura for one.- Marked as such with a dash and speechmarks.

Disclaimer: Bethesda and Oblivion aren't mine of course, if they were I'd do a better job spell-checking. Rating T, some varying levels of violence & injury, minor language.

* * *

Chapter 1 Azura's Whim.

From the shifting light of her realm, her gaze extended to the lonely star far from her sky; her interest fell on the realm of its souls. Azura… had greater scope in power than too many realised.

* * *

~ I don't know whose journal this was, but it's mine now. I just need to write down what's just happened. If only to make myself admit this is really happening. I need to think. If anyone finds this- IM NOT FROM HERE! I woke up in a cell in your prisons but Im NOT a criminal. My name wont be in your records, it cant be. Please believe me, I need someone to, or to help me or this message get back home.

This thing's water damaged a while back it seems, remaining pages are falling out and I can barely make out the faded writing. Even after trying to pick out legible words only found a few; 'dust storms, 'contract', 'attacked', 'travel to…' somewhere I cant make out. Days at the top of one page still show 'Day 239' I think, so counting on it must have covered over a year. Sorry but I'm writing over it, no use wasting, and I need to leave a note in case I dont make it. People have to know what's happened to me. Quill-pen works surprisingly well at least, still ink in its sealed chamber.

No time. I'd better move soon, I'm too near the tunnel to feel safe yet, and light's fading fast anyway. Gonna get round walls and into the city at least, figure out my next move from there. Better run. ~

~ Ok crate by lamppost will have to do. Quiet spot, only guards wandering by.

The last thing I remember was pausing to stare at the stars. Had been a great Halloween night out in town. Its not fair. God my parents will think I've been murdered or kidnapped. Shit.

When I woke in the cell I thought It was bad enough, how could I have been arrested? Wasn't that drunk and I'm not the sort to get in trouble. Maybe was denial but my mind took time to put together all the details that were wrong. Grey walls, stone, not painted. Floor too; cold and dirty with straw. Table, stool… wooden. When I saw the manacles and bones I felt like an idiot, instantly believing I'd been propped up in a Halloween display in one of the bars as a prank. Hand to head I prepared for my friends' laughter and decided to go easier on those shots in future.

But I stood there for a while with the cold air clearing my head, waiting for the punchline, the laughing, my friends... Waiting. The realisation there was a complete lack of voices and music I KNEW was there moments before finally hit. It had to be moments, I'd still briefly been able to taste the lingering cigarette smoke in the air. All the damn time my instincts worked faster than my groggy mind; this was no joke. The bones I nudged at with my foot, too solid and brittle to be plastic or even resin. Not my shoes! My clothes were rags, my costume's gone. Certainly not my bracelets. Not bracelets. And you know the funniest part of this whole damn, STUPID joke is? I knew where I was. Recognised it straight away even though I shouldnt. Because IT CANT BE.

Walking up to the bars was the only way to be sure, and there he was. Red eyes. Blue-green ashen skin, silver hair, and… "Oh look, an Imperial in the Imperial prison…" He went on a bit. Wow that voice. Tried to say I don't think I'm an Imperial and he scoffed. "What are you then? Breton? Nord runt?... _Orc_?" He wasn't speaking English and neither was I, but it came so naturally my deluded mind didn't register. Im writing in English. But I can understand what people round here are saying, and I can read those shop signs. Strange - it's like I've always known this language.

The others came moments later, voices and faces eerily near matching those in the game. A damn game. How is this possible? I tried asking what was going on, but I meant why was I here in this jail, and who were they, really? They were in a serious hurry so my protests I shouldn't be here went ignored or spoken over so I just numbly followed. I was gonna ask again and they could explain it all, I swear that's all I was thinking, because nothing was ACTUALLY going to happen down there was it? First thing I did was walk through a damn cobweb down the steps, brushing it off my face still as they were attacked. Any lingering remnants of hope it was an elaborate trick were gone when I checked for that womans - Captain Renault's pulse, finding none, just blood. The first attack had seemed focused on her specifically. She's actually dead.

Saw it all happening as I expected it would. -Once I was alone in there I was still dazed, but giant rats leaping at your face have a way of snapping you out of that. Flailed out and struck them dead in a panic. Lucky they were so weak. Carefully took Renault's sword from the floor. Tried a few swings like a baseball bat, that had to do. I knew I had no choice but to follow the only way out. And I knew I'd have to retrain my focus faster if I wanted to survive what I knew was ahead and make it outside. Maybe I could have gone back to the cell and waited, but I just had a feeling it was a really bad idea. If the assassins were chasing and searching, or if the other guards caught up, either might have killed me. I was scared.

But with a last glance at the lifeless Captain, I decided what if things didn't have to happen like that, if I just moved fast enough maybe…?


	2. Chapter 2

I've not given up yet on that idea. It's hard to stop myself constantly checking I've still got the amulet. Maybe it was destined to all happen like he said. But I dont see why it should be me here in the middle of all this, or how someone from home has predicted events on this world. Still I'm sorry I failed you all, fate or not.  
I need to get moving soon, already wasted too much time on this journal, but I know there's too big a chance I'll die where I'm going, and if this is ever found; especially if anyone from home ends up here at least there might be a record of what's happened to me, and why I went.

No wonder Baurus didn't hesitate so much to believe what I said, I was speaking through barely contained sobs. Stood in range of the paralysis spell, I could only uselessly watch the assassin I'd believed I could stop. By jamming that hidden passage door shut, or smacking them on the head as they came out. Couldn't hold the door, it just slid past my fingers as I strained to try and hold it. Then with just a gap I saw a glow as the assassin used that spell. As a player I used to sit and click past the dialogue to move my impassive character on so I could wander off. I've never seen people actually die before, never mind murdered in front of me. What if I have to fight anyone myself? I'd known what was coming and should have easily managed to explain it so to prevent their deaths. It's my fault. And now when they were unknowingly meant to have some 'hero' they got the wrong person. I owe them. So I'm going once I'm prepared.

* * *

Sorry for the scrawl but I'm writing fast. Stuff worth knowing, and what my plan is. I've got some gear from the trek through the underground, probably all I need given I've now figured I'll try to overtake events. There's no talk of any attack on Kvatch yet. I refuse to accept all this as some obedient puppet to 'fate' on a world which shouldn't even exist.

Ok I've got potions; they really work thank god. (Or gods.) That last assassin nearly took a chunk out of my arm before Baurus got him. The potion I used seemed to vaporise, bottle and all out of my hand, and my flesh near instantly fabricated back as it was.

Already discovered I could use the spells when I'd thought to try it earlier. I felt it like a warmth in my veins as I stretched my hand up and mumbled 'heal'. Wow! Wonder if saying the name properly and holding my arm up more fluidly gets better results. Bet I'll get plenty of practice on the way...

Magic seems to permeate this world more that I ever realised it could. I found after I salvaged the armour (mouldy smelling but damn comfy) and weapons, far from having to carry it all in my arms or in a bag, an understanding came to me how focusing as I grasped an item, it could vanish yet still be in my awareness and feel its weight. Calling the warhammer to my hands in itself I could marvel at. Could barely carry, never mind effectively swing the damn thing though so left that behind.

Only just getting used to the sword as it is, though I have to admit I think I enjoy using it, once I get past seeing the sickening damage it can do on animals. But if those goblin things want to try to hurt me they can expect this thing in the face.

Even the torch I got, hold it aloft and you can light it with just a tiny spark of fire without using a whole spell. Handy.

Need more repair hammers. Hard to use but they work too. Hold over the fault or damage and focus as you strike. I suck at using them; mine shattered into dust leaving me dumbly staring at my empty hand. I'll try A Fighting Chance. Seems an appropriate name and looks near on the map stuck in the back of the journal. Drawing a quick map of Earth in here too before I leave town. I can draw it better later, this is just in case.

Gonna sidetrack as little as possible, stop at a chapel and buy a spell to heal wounded people I might come across. Maybe try a quick prayer too, not all that religious but why not.

If I'm alive I'll update this later. Wish I could stay longer in this city, it's huge. Same layout but far more here than the game showed. Hope there's public toilets of some sort, there's enough damn sewers. Oh yeah- kids running about. How idiotic am I to be surprised they exist? I bet Khajiit kids are cute!

The Watch guards changing shifts now look unsettled, I think word has already got round. Ok time to go before that shop shuts. ~


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: After getting over the initial shock without ending up curled up in a corner all glassy-eyed, and grudgingly accepting this isn't a hallucination, at this point I figure there's an aim and a purpose to be distracted long enough from the horror of it all by keeping moving. But OC is a little dismissive and doesn't yet fully respect that this is a very different and pretty harsh world. That will change.

* * *

~Last Seed 28. 3E433. Maybe this is temporary but better keep track of time I suppose.

Finally hit Skingrad, may as well update now since I'm bloody exhausted. Can eat as I write. Bread cheese and very old ale, still not bad. Mustn't sleep yet. Wonder if I can throw together a restore fatigue potion, see if those help general exertion. Hope the alchemy gear doesn't explode or anything if I make a mistake.

The journey here took hours through the night, and I'd already discovered before I even got across the Imperial City I can't run non-stop for miles, big surprise. Once I can afford a horse I don't care anymore that I need to learn how to ride. How hard could it be? Yeah tempting fate I bet.

Kept a workable pace in the end with a scout-march of sorts, jogging then walking alternately. Thinking on it, can't say I wasn't expecting to move maybe a little easier than at home. Didn't really notice at first with so much happening, but I did feel sort of lighter. Thought it was the booze from last night. Hard to tell if there's much difference but having been here on what could only be an alien world, I could swear gravity is slightly less.

When I got tired of jumping at every rustle of leaves and suspecting every shadow as I hurried along through the dark, I looked up in hope of seeing the stars. Was still cloudy. It's never the smartest thing to walk along looking up, especially when there are things that want to hurt you.

Drew sword in time to sidestep the ice-blast and dive at the first imp. The second had my full attention this time. Sadly had to kill my first wolf soon after; survival outweighing guilt. Just have to remind myself these aren't the timid, docile wolves I love from Earth. Looked a little malnourished, maybe that was the reason this one attacked, like the rats. I don't know what everything else has against me.

I honestly find far less problem killing goblins, as it seems does half of Skingrad from what Ive overheard. Not come across many so far, other than in the Imperial City's underground, but they decorate with a lot of skulls. How many victims? The ugly things stink too, kinda like rotting leaves and what must be urine. Nasty creatures.

Just after Greyrock cave, as I was thinking myself on the home-straight for town, I finally met a highwayman. Khajiit, so screw trying to out-run that. But he smelled of booze and looked like a loser, and for an instant I was ready to swing; he'd go down fast standing there swaying a little as it was.

Can't believe I let myself think that way, of killing a person already. He was no animal as cat like as he looked. I winced in shame at myself and just paid. Smug bastard saw that and must have thought it fear, and he wobbled away chuckling. Had seven gold left...

Whatever super-being Gods and realms this world has, the final afterlife I still believe underlies everything can only be of a universal God. I can't act like lives or my actions don't count here.

* * *

Anyway here I am; Death town. No wonder Kvatch was due another blood-bath for the history books, must be downwind of this place. Shouldn't joke, if it does happen I'm going to be right there. Passed a graveyard as I neared the East Gate in, as I remember there's a haunted house full of undead somewhere here, that Cluedo party house I'm sure soon to be used, murderous drunk noble, lovely necrophiliac, torture and 'disappearance' of prisoners, vampire Count and comatose wife, and Glarthir. Oh god, Glarthir.

And no I didn't manage to avoid him; right after I arrived and was staring around like a tourist. Back-stepped when I recognised him and he still caught me. I was stood briefly wondering if all those people could be just like they were supposed to be. Him turning up convinced me that's more than probable. Yeah hopefully at midnight I'll either be dragging a priest cross-country toward Chorrol, or if too late at least I'll be fighting through a hell-realm, safely away from you mate. I probably shouldn't joke about that either.

Raining now, good time to get myself over to the Mage's Guild, hopefully once I join I can ransack the place without them minding too much. ~

* * *

~ Ha! Nice and warm and cosy in here out of the rain. Joined and going to make a few shop trips now. Nodded along and put on an interested face as I was told about their job for me. Some of the gear they have looks well used, so leaving that and selling whatever seems surplus to the Nord shop. Then can afford that restore spell from the chapel, and on to Kvatch.~


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: 'Bout time most of us would be getting over the initial adrenaline and sense of purpose, and with a hard-life lesson or two, and no sign of a way home, start feeling sorry for ourselves BIG time. You wouldn't? Oh angst is me time - our stories 'hero' is no hero! But; without realising it this OC is growing stronger, even if only driven through a sense of guilt at first. Knowing you could make a difference, knowing the future, and seeing the value in even the lives of strangers. Being inspired to loyalty and self-sacrifice by those you encounter…

* * *

~I'm at Kvatch, well the camp. Plan two failed I guess. Not a huge surprise since I'm told the attack began the night the Emperor was killed. There's talk that the Dragonfires going out must have been what allowed them to attack with more than just assassins, to pierce the veil between realms. Maybe they'd found out his location but not his identity at the time, otherwise it seems an odd coincidence they picked Kvatch to attack first. Maybe I should be more careful about mentioning names in here for now.- I've only considered the chance of this book ending up in the right, and not the wrong hands.

Knew once I saw the smoke from far down the road and then a glowing skyline. A Black Horse Courier raced by looking pretty grim-faced. Strange thing; the Kvatch signpost had three gouges next to the name. I wonder who did it. Probably the bad guys.

Urged my horse on, yeah I stole her. Figured worth chancing with even a slim hope of getting to Kvatch before the attack. Clung on for dear life every time I got her galloping. Good beginner's lesson, tolerant horse too. Getting off tends to involve falling off though, maybe it's easier without armour I wouldn't know.

Oh and I guess it was bound to happen eventually I know. -Killed someone. Bandit. A thin Khajiit woman almost in rags who jumped out as I was making my way from Skingrad, trying to startle the horse into throwing me. I tried yielding, offering food. She hissed something about not being a beggar. It was more than my life at stake with the job I'd been trusted with. Still I don't see how I could possibly be the same person now, or forgiven. I was afraid of dying but it's another thing altogether to be afraid of losing any place in heaven if there is one. Certainly never wanted to take that chance. Maybe if this world does hold its own afterlife – they could take one more soul? I'm so selfish.

You know what's sad? When the second bandit appeared a little further on an Imperial Legion soldier was there this time and killed him. The third one of their gang was already sprawled unmoving on the ground nearby. This soldier had a kind face, and asked if I was alright as he stood from checking the body. None of it fazed him. He was used to it.

If I'm already a lost cause, why not at least make myself useful to these people? So if I do die as I'm sure I'm very well capable here, it might still make the difference for even one more of them surviving.

It makes me smile when I think back on my games overpowered thief the guards always had a perma-scowl for. "Stop-talking-to-me", followed by a reverent "It was an honour, Champion…"

But these are some genuinely noble minded people. Now I'm actually meeting their real versions it really matters. They love the Empire, it stood so long thanks to those who stood together before them. And they carry the same shared loyalty and defiance against all odds it was built on, from the original Dragonblood Alessia's triumph and the allegiances of so many including their ancestors who fought together against the slavery of all.

They believe in it. I think I want to look after these Legion people somehow. The soldiers, the town and city guards. The Blades.

* * *

Anyway. Back to how I arrived here. Just before reaching camp saw an Altmer man running my way, so clambered off my horse in time to grab him. Hirtel was his name, I think I remember him. He was looking very shaken and his face was more sooty than golden. He told me what I already knew about the Daedra siege machine and the men holding the road, before fleeing again, not before a wistful look at 'my' horse. Savlian Matius was the one who took charge after breaking out of town with the few he could help. Long walk uphill but I'm leaving the poor horse hidden near the camp.

Spoke to the camps traumatised survivors, they spoke of their nightmare. A few more people than I remember but some are gradually leaving for anywhere safer. I recognised Boldon. The guy looked at me with an accusing expression akin to hate, like he wanted someone to blame. That's fine, blame me it's more fitting than you know. Some were handling it better than others. Some with stoicism, some with despair, some with camaraderie, some with abandon. –No wonder he was angry, they'd had no chance to even fight back. Ilav the monk I remember, kinda shook me how total his hopelessness was, his faith destroyed.

I'm sat writing all this and I know I'm partly trying to delay going up there. I'm terrified. Time to go. ~


	5. Hell

~ Last Seed 29-30. 

Well I'm alive. May not be the most epic way to sum up events but feels appropriate. Gate's sealed and gone and I'm sat at the camp's fire writing in its light. I want to go home. Keep thinking about it but that's not going to do much good is it? Focus on the now.

My armour needs some attention and repair; holes making it a bit drafty. Dented and torn in places. If I don't find anything new I really need to wash this gear too, was already neglected when I first wore it.

Been just staring at the flames, trying to recollect my thoughts. Ok. Firstly some things were different. More bodies, and body parts in Kvatch for one. Odd shoes and scattered belongings. Looks like the Dremora treated the corpses like trophies. Explains what I saw through the gate. It's a small relief most of them seem to have been brutalised after they were killed. Most. I shouldn't have joked about it being a blood bath, or the hell realm bit. Can actually say I've been to Hell and back now, cant I?

* * *

The sky darkened with red and lightning as I'd made my way up from the camp, and I could hear the metallic buzz of the gate. Great big solid metal thing it was, looked like it would take weeks to build, but it had appeared with the others in a matter of minutes. The entire area from inside the city to a radius outside was burnt like a nuclear bomb had hit. The weapon must have rained fire, I don't know.

Merandil the Altmer guard said Savilian's not really the captain but the highest ranking left alive. But he's got my respect – singlehandedly leading the desperate defence of the survivors with only three people left by the time they got out , and still eager for a chance to counter-attack. Please don't die on me Merandil, you always did that.

Was just able to squeeze by the gate to get into town and check on everyone. I don't think it was solely the guards protecting the barricaded chapel doors, or more buildings than that one would surely have held survivors. Nearly couldn't find Martin, oddly his face didn't stand out much from the others. Kind of plain, tired looking. Quite a few people in there.

Back outside I faced the gate and realised I wasn't actually quite sure how to enter. Held my breath and walked through. Fail. Was still outside the city plus felt like an idiot as I swung my sword blindly when I'd briefly thought I was through. Placing a hand against its surface works. It felt like pushing against water. Leaves you a bit shakey for a moment after, not that I wasn't already shaking.

The world -disappeared- and a volcanic landscape stretched out in place of stone walls. It seems a world like the Earth must have been as it still cooled after forming, and I wonder how there's breathable air. Barriers of some kind maybe around the 'Islands'? I can only presume all of this, the gates, the Gods, the magic, must have its roots in some extremely ancient and advanced technology incomprehensible to us.

I'd forgotten Illend Vonius was in there. Ran up and helped him slice up the scamps and escorted him back to the others. With hindsight I could have used his help; I'd made bad assumptions about what to expect in the tower.

So far I'd only met with the easy to kill scamps. They claw, bite and burn you but it becomes easier to tolerate the pain and even disregard your instincts to withdraw or cringe away, when you know you can heal any wound once you get a chance. Flesh wounds aren't so painful as getting hit on joints or bone, which I'd say it as deadly as fast blood loss, because it obliterates your capacity to fight and even move with the sheer pain. When you start to black-out, that's when you're about to die if you dont act fast, I'm certain of that now.

Moving in armour really is a valuable skill. When you can't avoid being hit, to anticipate the strike and shift just enough to deflect or block using pauldron or greave. Or to at least be hit in the shoulder instead of the neck.

And how do I suddenly know all this so well? The damn tower. I supposed the main event was over so all the stronger dremora had their fun and left with the other gates, only low rank guards in charge. What are the 'strong' ones like? The first Churl nearly killed me.

Most people I bet, if they got told they could come to this world, of course would imagine it to involve running around with the biggest weapon they could find and being the most awesome thing since the Gods. Here's how it goes for my experience. Mostly varied between desperately slashing with my sword, glugging potions and running for my life from a psychopathic, well armed demon.

Its first hit caved in my left cheekbone I'm fairly certain. When I heard my ribs cracking under another impact my heart stalled. When I can breathe I seem to have a battle-cry of highly repeated panic-swearing. This was my first fight against a dremora. ONE dremora. It was at this point my memory reminded me I still carried the Amulet of Kings; I'd bought it into friggin Oblivion. If I died they'd be laughing.

Wavered and considered going all the way back to stash it, somewhere. Then did something I'm not proud of even if it seemed the only way. Gambled with the fate of Tamriel that I could survive this with no training and clearly no ability to fight, simply so I could close the gate and not have to come back.

I didn't mess with the next dremora, just used potions liberally and fought like a lunatic. Hit and dive back when they swing. These guys aren't stupid but it seems they enjoy hefting a weapon with all their strength more than with balance, so that gives you a chance. Healing magic bought my severed fingers back, was glad I didn't have to hold them in place somehow before casting.

Found Menien Goneld in the cage. He was refusing to let me try to help him but I argued anyway. Told him to climb out. He was injured, and worse the bars were actually sharpened. I tried, and he actually did say in the end that he'd try, on condition that I got moving now. I know he just said it to make me go. I must have looked a state, and might have had little enough chance to succeed without extra burden in his view.

Here's where things got interesting; I changed something. Was at my limits of what I could take with being helpless to save people as if it was some immovable fate. Climbed the damn bars, using my armour to spread my weight where they were sharp, and made him grab my arms. I actually got him out, was pretty gobsmacked. He was visibly grateful, but on principle his thanks was a telling-off for risking it.

Gave him my spare sword with the request he didn't charge ahead in any fighting, and we made our way to the Sigil Keep. Holding the stone made my teeth rattle and eyes hurt as flame seemed to envelop us. As the world changed around us I saw Menien's relieved expression as he too saw Tamriel appearing again. As the final flash subsided in that very instant he looked up, said "Huh?", and vanished. What the hell? I mean he came through, I saw but where was he? I still don't know. Not much I can do about it for now but store it away to figure out later. He still had my back-up weapon too. Great.

With the gate gone I went straight for the city with Captain Matius, keeping moving better than thinking. Impatient as he was I knew there was no reason to rush in. No more enemy reinforcements from the gate and no one else left alive. Plus personally the constant injury over and over again in fights was starting to feel like a form of perpetual torture. I told them I needed to prepare, and would help when I get back. Then headed to camp. Don't know how long I sat here at the fire before deciding to just write.


	6. Azuras Spite

Authors Note: The mention of a dream is a reference to growth in-game, also a nod to the previous 'Elder Scrolls: Morrowind' introduction. Azura isn't one to lecture as far as I know, but hopefully I've kept her values and agendas canon enough. Her words are not featured in the journal but as outside monologue. As for 'spite' being involved, she was once mocked by four gods according to lore, 300 years later certain events were set into motion with her influence. Things ultimately didn't go well for them. Dark and bright also are a nod to Azura lore. Oh and shades; lampshades… just to confuse.

Disclaimer: Morrowind is also not mine.

* * *

~I'm tired. Need to sleep soon and figure out what to do next. I'm not sure anymore. Martin's right there, and I have the amulet. I know for certain now I _can_ change events. My original failures now again surfacing in my memory.

My idea was easy. Talk to him and explain until he understood. Prove it with the amulet he'd surely recognise through it's fame. Ask what else did he have to do or to lose? Just hear Jauffre out and that's all. I could even see it possible to practically kidnap him and drag him to Weynon Priory. Tempting.

The Dragonfires could be re-lit within the day. Martin crowned Emperor. Oblivion Invasion again prevented. Happy ending. Maybe I would be able to return home… The Empire would hunt the Mythic Dawn cultists but without the desperate necessity I cant see the Imperials able to target Mankar Camoran in his made-paradise, since it would take Martin risking his life to enable it. Cant see the Elder Council allowing that, and the Dragonfires would bar a Great Gate. So that threat would remain. One heir left, and how long for the priest-Emperor to have children?

He'd have high security, but Uriel and his sons had that too. And why did the mid-fifties princes have no children? This alone worries me the most; were their enemies so patient and careful in planning there were no surviving offspring, or mysteriously sterile princes?

This can only lead to an inevitable future where all the Septims will be gone, sooner or later. With them the barrier to Oblivion. But there is a reachable future where I could end this threat for good. By sacrificing Martin.

Not like he wouldn't agree to that end. If my awareness of his story is correct he's got a lot of guilt and regret about his past, deserved or not. Maybe redemption is his greatest future. All mortals die eventually. He would become the best he could be.

Not quite daylight yet, I can see the others from the chapel milling around and some trying to sleep, Martin included. Perfect chance.~

* * *

~Bad idea considering it was a risk but it occurred to me to test something. Snuck up behind his makeshift tent and lowered the long chain of the amulet over his head as he slept and let it go. Grabbed it back, only breathing once I was safely a few steps away. Glad didn't wake him and face an extremely awkward time trying to explain that one. I don't really want him to disapprove of me either. Doubt he'd slept at all since the attack, probably trying to help the others any way he could.

The Amulet isn't bound to me or anything, the jewel shone very slightly, as if it recognised him, and the chain didnt faze through him like it had me when I tried it on back in the big city (of course I tried it). Their fate is changeable. This just highlights the reality even more cruelly. It means the worst future is the most likely. The only other option is for me to act. Farm workers here are surely stronger than a civilian from the easy life. What should I do?~

* * *

-"Mortal, do you yet realise?..."-

* * *

~ Last Seed 30

I remember dreaming. I was walking in a thick mist that billowed and changed to smoke. The orange glow of a gate appeared. A figure was facing it, and turned to face me as I came near. Myself as I was, stood there in my old coat and jeans. From behind me a blue glow erupted. I spun round in time to see stone blocks rise out of the ground, completing the arched form of another gate. The world beyond it came into focus. Green, with modern buildings and busy roads. Home! I turned to point for my other self, but the old me just smiled, and walked through the fiery gate…

* * *

-"Between the dark strength of contempt and selfish apathy, and the bright falsehood of high-minded disdain and inaction; choice is freedom. Do you wish to be saved? Or will you fulfil your potential and trust in fates chance?

Many souls live with little purpose, and without dream of greater worth. Some seek it out…ambition and glory. You failed to value your fortune in your life on Earth, and clung to worn fantasies and escapes instead of living. Comfort does not nurture spirit. Many dreams die forgotten. Yet those of your kind are still drawn to look up at the stars above. What do you seek, Mortal?

If you find worth enough in this world to care for those who are not your own, worth may yet be reflected in your own deeds. Do this, and you will not be alone, for I stand between the realm of the approaching light, and that of the darkness you will face. While some of my kind covet souls, I value those who learn greater strength. A path may yet be opened where you wish to walk. Those deserving I care to reward."-

* * *

….When I woke I'd thought someone was talking to me as I slept. I wont try to place the words to write them down, seems unnecessary somehow. Slept in my armour. At least my aching muscles remind me I'm alive, even hurts to write. The memory of events is falling back into place in my waking mind. Feels a little clearer now.

It's 3pm, just stuck my head out of my tent to ask. Someone had a pocket-watch. I want one. The sun is getting brighter. Shades would be nice, but I doubt they have those.

Made my decision at least; faith. Yup good plan, but it's all I've got to go with. If I'm here in place of the prisoner there must be a reason, it must mean I have a chance of succeeding if I try. Made it this far. And no one else is coming to do this for me.

From what I know of the history of Cyrodiil, when Akatosh lent his power to Alessia to aid her people to freedom and emerge victorious, the fact there would always be a reliance on that power to shield the world meant it was never fully the mortals own achievement. To stand alone after the barriers fall would finally honour that ancient victory as truly complete.

Old allegiances to the heir that held the Empires heart will no longer be bound to it, so the Empire will no longer stand as it is now. But I can only hope they learn it was their peoples' own strength that was its soul.~

* * *

~Well, just went to leave to report to Jauffre, but this is worth a small mention. I'm walking there now. Cant find the horse I left carefully tethered. Someone's stolen it. ~


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: Ogling at the Guild… shameless.

* * *

~Was about five hour hike by road back towards Skingrad. Not ready to get myself lost in the countryside just yet. Can walk due north from this area. Legs are feeling better at least, and it gave me time to spell practise. Taking a breather sat here on a small boulder and writing by torchlight again while I have the chance to note down these things. Got company for the moment, he can keep watch for two minutes. Should certainly have better hearing than me anyway and we're still reasonably sheltered by rocks surrounding this spot.

First item of interest. Taken to collecting a lot of alchemic flora as I walk. At first took time carefully cutting off suitable looking stems and fungi along the roadside. Quickly became more of a wrecking spree wherever I pass. Just grab, break, and rip off anything that grows, barely breaking pace. A twist of the hand, and added to the collection. Good distraction to pass the time as I travel.

Didn't notice it before; the map writes itself. Weird. What I thought to be simple ink etched long ago shifts and changes. Only saw it when I climbed down into this cave. Yes side tracking but I'm not racing against time now at least. Well I hope not. Realised it's the place the Mages Guild lost Erthor in, and I was a few minutes away from the entrance. –He tells me the Guild has map specialists as part of its services to the public, also pointing out the drawn compass needles movement to keep north, and how the more local area had a slight glow. Impressive how literally it works, so much that I'm almost tempted to be disappointed it has no 'pirates compass' to point me where I wish.

Zombies. Actually one thing in this world that may be easier rather than harder to destroy than I'd have expected. Being damned for under-estimation was feeling like the rule until now. Unlike a simulated fight I can actually move. These guys are tough and do hit hard but dont move too fast, so you can dodge, duck, and spring up behind them. Not that smart so they don't learn. Good idea to hold your breath when fighting them though, as the 'fresher' ones can bring on your gag reflex. The smells of blood and sounds of sword impacting bone was already enough for that at times. Best to blank it out. Think happy thoughts. And not food related ones.

Start with a well aimed arrow or fireball and sidestep their charge. I still got fairly beaten up, they mindlessly hit with their hands like clubs. Just happy I have a tactic. And at least they generally dont look very human, or like any other race that used to be a person.

Erthor seems stronger than he is brave, what with the zombie he took down easily on his own. He wants an escort? Well I do too. We can take the scenic route to Skingrad via my stop off. ~

* * *

~ Last Seed 31.

He caught on. In Skingrad for a few minutes now. He got a little suspicious of my navigation skills when he checked his own map and realised we were heading the opposite direction to town. Opted to ditch me, then ran back seconds later with a wolf in pursuit. Dion caught up with me on my way in. Glarthir's mad? Really?~

* * *

~Reached Weynon Priory with no real problems. The monks did wonder how I ended up at Kvatch before here as instructed. One dryly suggested I'd gotten lost. When they thought me out of hearing the other concluded it likely saved lives, and considered it the divines' influence. Hah! If they damn knew. Hell if I do. That does make me wonder though. If they really can hear your ''prayers' at the chapel altars, it cant hurt to try asking them, if they even respond. Surely mine is a unique enough problem to gain some interest?

Got a horse again I'm glad, though this one seems a little more pampered and less fit, but nice temperament. Switched my armour for some nice newer and clean pieces. With the dried blood, ash, sweat and horse smell I'm starting to reek, but at least I _look_ tidier. Will stop in Chorrol quickly for another restock. Bye-bye Amulet and last chance to change my mind.~

* * *

~Quick note. Dar-ma; first Argonian I've seen so close. Pretty in a scaly sort of way, with the light reflecting off her coloured face scales slightly. Right on time it started raining as I wondered where in town to head, so here I am in the Mage's Guild. Can't find a bath, just wash basins in the sleeping quarters. Maybe they even have spells to wash with. Someone mentioned the Fighters Guild likely has facilities, what with the more 'involved' work they do. ~

* * *

~Back here again, but Joined the Guild next door while in there. Modryn looks awesome in the flesh I have to say, intently discussing another recruit's contract details as they stood over by the dining area. The food is more my thing than in the Mage's Guild, simple but hot and a carnivore's dream, and beer instead of wine. Does no-one like water around here? All free for members though. I wonder if they'll notice if I never take on a contract? It's a different story with the Mage's Guild. Will make a lot of sense to get myself access in future to the Arcane University. I'm not the strongest sort, and I can see my chances of survival increasing greatly if I can give myself some gruelling magic training with use of spell making they provide.

Once I'd finished eating, looked and found they had a tub down in the basement next to the armourer's furnace. Was deserted since it was late night. A shirtless Orc came down just as I was scrubbing between my toes. Craned his head to stare barely discreetly as he walked by, before turning his attention to attacking the training dummy. Took it as a compliment… was already midnight but hesitated to get out for a while longer, before hastily grabbing my cloth towel to dry. He didn't turn around. The dummy seemed to be suffering as the warhammer slammed it.

Shouldn't really have joined just to use a bath. At least with this Mage's Guild I'll be earning my free use of the place. Not sure which is weirder, sitting to eat among various armoured tough guys with axes and swords, or with a roomful of wizards in ornate robes, talking about the latest theories on schools of magic as if it was the latest gossip. Would have assumed it would be against etiquette to have summoned creatures wandering around the dining area though. But you know I even saw kids in both halls. Bored looking but very respectful when it came to keeping out of the way, the less well dressed ones doing cleaning and chores. Local kids coming in daytime for paid tuition I'm told, and some working apprentices. From what I've learned it is a cultural duty of sorts for children to be trained in their parents craft, from cloth-making to soldiering. Not set in stone, but more depending on the wealth and prestige, and inclination of the parents.

Anyway, more aloof company here but more civil I guess, so chose here to sleep as opposed to the more friendly but less quiet fighter's halls. Ok maybe it'll be a little less aloof since I've had that bath. ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 1. 3E 433. Kvatch. 

Back here again, already looking forward to getting what needs to be done finished so we can leave soon. Was cross country through a worsening storm. Kept southwest as straight as possible, relying on map. Storm cleared as I rounded the signposted path to Kvatch camp.

When Martin said his parents were farmers he had a shifty expression, he may have known long ago or suspected he was adopted. Looked pained to mention them, the 'were' part caused me to not question further. I have so many questions, but each time I consider asking I think better of it. I've no right. Glad he's agreeing to leave town now the Oblivion Gate is gone and with Jauffre's note stating Martin's presence urgently required at the Priory.

I'm banking on him being able to look after himself in a fight, and surely is if destined to battle later. I'd made the defenders of Kvatch wait long enough. Legion soldiers were already at the camp, talking to the survivors. Not many, but these guys are volunteers, local patrols. The unofficial word is that the Elder Council is in disarray after the death of the Emperor, trying to confirm news of the murders of his heirs and attempting to find out more about the assassins and security breaches. Commanders are arguing it best to bulk forces elsewhere, shoring up defences at key locations. The rumour is they consider Kvatch to be already lost. Wiser to not take soldiers from the defence of living towns to defend an empty one. Maybe it is but there might be survivors hiding in there I dont know of, and the others who havent left aren't giving up. Safer for all I think if Martin comes too, I don't want to leave him unguarded any longer either. A few different faces in camp, seems mainly travellers to Kvatch, now finding their destination gone, lending assistance where they can. But I cant be sure who they are.

Told him; Weynon Priory… via Kvatch. He looked a little astonished but nodded in agreement to it, curiosity in the reasoning of someone who'd already gone alone through Oblivion and survived. Wonder if they'd still call me hero if they knew how exactly I made it through that place. Not that anyone has yet. Lenka, I think, is looking after my horse. She refused any money happily. ~

* * *

~Went pretty much as expected. A few Dremora, mainly Scamps left to rule the ruins. Once we headed in the soldiers followed. One now lies in the castle. Merandil fell outside. Amazed I managed to keep the others alive. Gonna try to grab a few hours sleep before move while soldiers still around.~

* * *

~ Heartfire 2.

Took turns riding the horse as we went along the route I had come, snatching every random plant as I walked, trying to make small talk. Even told a few tall tales of a forgotten realm with huge glass cities lit up like stars. He was nodding off in the saddle, having not slept at the camp, and I was only depressing myself, so continued mainly in silence.

Passed Meridia's shrine, Martin was quiet. A little later followed the sounds of laughter and drunken singing to reveal Sanguine's shrine. Instead of bringing a little relief, something about it just made me feel uneasy. Didn't linger.

Began to hurry as light was fading as we neared Chorrol's stables. Not my idea of fun tripping over rocks and roots by torchlight, or I wouldn't have waited till day came to get moving from camp. Realised it was only partly cloudy at this point, and the stars were coming out. I scrabbled up the last hill to the main road with Martin in tow.

Finally had a chance to take in a view of the panoramic beauty of the star crowded sky. Stood there a while, both looking at the stars. It was nice. There's so many! The huge red moon hung in the sky over the walls of Chorrol, its surface appearing to ripple and shift, with dark clouds near its pole. Wonder if that moon is where Oblivion gates lead? Or is it literally Lorkhan's remains? I wonder which direction Earth is.

Approached the priory hearing shouting, had healing ready as we ran to their aid. Inside there was little time to talk, when we came up the stairs Jauffre just confirmed what I'd said was true, and told Martin he bought with him hope, and that he now had the Blades support.

I retrieved my horse and we began this trek north to Bruma. Both are talking now there's time, a lot to talk of I'm sure. I tried to write and let the horse steer, but too wobbly so just getting this all written down now we've stopped for a short break. It helps me to write it all down, there's not much else to do on this long journey except keep watch for wild animals, bandits, and any suspiscious characters. Also makes it easier to plan ahead on paper. ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 3. Early morning.

Bruma's in sight now. It better be Bruma, my map reading isn't that bad and its cold enough. Learned cold is very good incentive to not be so shy of bloodstains on warm fur armour. Journey took all day and most of the night, with enough rest breaks to not kill the poor horses. I'm really learning to appreciate these animals. The heat is radiating off the back of my horse as its hooves crunch on the snowy ground.

Martin's nearly falling out of his saddle. So much for getting there in time to sleep this night. Hopefully he can finally get some proper sleep, not with the exhausted and troubled look he had at the camp. Surprised I managed to sleep so well in the camp with how my limbs were aching so much at the time. I guess unlike the others my last wake up call wasn't an apocalyptic-nightmare invasion of my home, still there even when you wake. ~


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note; Teeny one-off head nod to my two favourite fan-fic authors. You're awesome if you recognise either. More reference to 'levelling up' reflecting growth.

* * *

~ Mid-day Bruma.

Made it to Cloud Ruler Temple after a careful climb up icy slopes, stopping here now for a few things. Including getting inside and warm. Almost beginning to ache for want of a camera with the sights I've seen.

Feeling slightly guilty. To be honest I know I joined The Blades simply to get my hands on an Akaviri katana of my own. I'm not one of them and can't pretend I am. From an Earth perspective it's tempting to see their dedication as naïve loyalty, with a system of governance similar to some we had in antiquity. But my world is safe and that system exists for a solid reason more than hierarchy here. So unlike it is for me, the fate of all life, freedom and strived for legacies is _theirs_ they defend through one fragile bloodline. The Dragonblood's legacy and faith.

The fortress that seemed to have grown out of the mountain looms over all who face it; as if come alive from history and stone with its own soul. No wonder the Blades feel at home there, the place is part of them. Strict life they live though. Happy I saw them in high spirits with Martin's arrival. Half expected to be stood hugging the doorway like a trespasser but was made welcome. To come in from the cold to that giant blazing hearth is bliss. I was asked to help rather than get orders like a proper Blade member, but I don't mind. Kind of proud I got this far as it is.

As for Bruma I'm checked in with the Guild as per plan; get allowed into Arcane University to train up. Best start now with cities I'm passing through for the recommendations I need.

Gear's ok, sticking with the fur while here. Also these boots have more grip than my others; hope no one else saw me fall on my arse. The priest who helped me up didn't laugh but I feel it would've been better than that blank stare. Well done hero. Oh and the guard who called me that did sound a bit uncertain, looking at the Kvatch armour then the pathetic one in it. At least I'm not the only clumsy one, I assumed High elves were meant to be graceful, but one slim robed Altmer walked straight into me, too busy hurrying along looking over his shoulder. ~

* * *

~ Brought a fresh horse, leaving 'Marborel' in the care of the stable-hand at Bruma's stables for now. Horses are about the only creatures not wanting me dead, other than deer and the small elusive mammals and soaring birds I've sighted. Would prefer to return the favour. Sun's going down, got to night-ride. Heard rumours there're already gates appearing out there.~

* * *

~ Heartfire 7. Imperial City.

A few days since I last wrote. Been sleeping a lot and wandering in the city mainly. First chance I've had to relax since being here, from that prison cell. Still no clue how- but what can I do about that? All beginning to feel normal in a way, like it would be weird to step outside and not see people in armour and robes, fur and scales, skins blue, green and gold. Even fighting comes more naturally in spite of the risks involved. To concentrate not hesitate is key. Use fear to get yourself angry instead and blank it all out, the sooner you win the sooner you can heal painful wounds. You learn how badly you want to live. Instead of a mobile phone I'd feel uneasy without a weapon to hand now, and exposed without armour.

Took the chance to explore while waiting for Tarmeena to study the books. Couldn't remember where to go next for sure plus I think it best to not make the Blades ask how I already know where to find the Mythic Dawn.

Oh yeah- was fun being lost in the sewers after the meeting when Baurus didn't hang around for me as I checked the rooms. Went for the first hotel I found when out in fresh air again. Nearly leapt out of my skin and went for my blade when that Ralsa lady rushed at me outside. Thought she was Mythic Dawn. Actually with that vampire hunting group who don't know there's one among them. Just out of curiosity I did go the next day. Just to see. I mean an actual vampire? Had to look. He was really pleasant and sincere sounding too, looked normal for an elf. All that time wasted looking for the right house name plate too.

The waterfront was a more worthwhile trip. Saw a few ships coming and going, merchants and a few fishing vessels mainly, one larger with towering sails. Word of warning; I take back what I said about Khajiit kids. They aint cute. Little bastards near the docks were out to pickpocket me, and when I caught two about to make a grab they ran to the nearest guard post crying. Passing through later the same ones were throwing old vegetables from a low roof.

Been round the market district again. Have to dodge horses and wagons a bit but best part of the city really. Food stalls and the smell of cooking in the air, and useful odd surplus items can be left among crates. Left over food good for alchemy work.

Already passed by the Arena a few times since coming to the city. Heard a huge roar of the crowd as a match was going on, but I don't want to watch. More people dying for no good reason. Depressing. Settled for a quick look at the training down inside and saw the Champion helping a young Dunmer practise. Seems a good guy. Hope these Aedra gods notice that, if his fate really is a sad one as I've seen.

Next day I checked in on Tarmeena then did the tourist thing again. Saw the White Gold Tower. From outside its like looking up at a skyscraper. Suppose it is. Couldn't see the top from where I stood. Inside there're a lot of off limits areas, and lot more doors than I knew of. Palace areas maybe? The guards glare if you run through.

Not to forget the ever important to every traveller; the best public toilets I've found have to be the Arboretum area. Least crowds, so cleaner than the Temple district's, also a plus where too many seem to be communal.

Spent the rest of the day finding and scouting a fast route to a certain house. Worked out to be a smart move. Was out of lock-picks so decided good idea to get in with the Thieves 'Guild', mainly to gain a good supply. I don't plan on robbing innocent people but every coin I get is only going towards the best training and gear I can find just to succeed. Never know what I might find that normal shops wont buy.

Gonna check on my horse and head back to hotel again now, catch Tarmeena in the morning.~

* * *

~ Lucky I woke early enough. Got from Tarmeena to Green Emperor Way just in time to catch the mid-day sun on the tombstone map. Destination Cheydinhal then north, as I thought. Taking the horse down and round to the East of the city to cross Lake Rumare at the shortest point. Stable-hand informs me riders have been known to cross safely there, with shallows where a nearby shrine is in view. Little sad to leave the city behind I'll admit, but a quiet ride away from the crowds will be nice. ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 8. Evening – Cheydinhal. 

Stopped at Roland Jenseric's cabin en route when I found it, remembering the poor guy had that vampire murder pinned on him. Thought I could hear that high pitched buzz in the distance as I left. Like at Kvatch. Dismissed it as paranoia, surely too soon. Wishful thinking I know. There were more Legion soldiers on the road, groups too. I asked and was told they're on recall to the city due to current events. Seems the Legion is being mobilised to counter the Daedra incursions and gates. But they can't spread too thin without the Imperial City lacking enough defenders, and cant recall those protecting provincial areas as the crisis is world-wide. It would cause anarchy and massive dissent if the legions abandoned the non-Imperial cities, and the Empire would appear too weak to fend off _any_ invasion or rebellion in future.

After dismounting at what turned out to be the Knights of the Thorn lodge and wandering off a little, I had an undignified final sprint on foot to town. Somehow encouraged to find hidden resources for speed.- Unexpected Minotaur close behind helped. Nice that it took my mind off the invasion but where the hell did he come from? Gate guards were surprised too.

To my relief my horse strolled up by the stables just after we took down the creature. I'd taken one heck of a beating. That giant freak pounded and tore through armour and skin and fractured my wrist. That and gouges healed up ok I'm glad, but still actually hurts all over. My prized Kvatch armour was hanging off one shoulder, shield cracked, gauntlets coming apart. That was a mess. Fixed most by myself but nearly no money again after paying the armourer next door. Can sell more Guild supplies tomorrow I guess. Should get some cash if I deliver this weapons package too since Burz as good as threw it at me. Didnt even speak to him. Gave me an accusing look when I walked in the fighters guild and asked "You a member?". I thought for a second he was on to me, since I've never had any intention of doing a single duty, so like a thief trying not to sound guilty, gave an indignant "_Yes_."  
He just went "Good!", dumped the lot on me, marked my map and told me to get moving.

Got my Mage's recommendation at least. Nice easy swim but was difficult getting the ring off the poor guys bloated finger. Hope they fish him out soon. ~


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note: Considering there's an inevitable high body count at the Mythic Dawn hideout, our own alien morality to Tamriel's could see it comparable to serial murder for a protagonist still considering themselves a civilian. They're technically bad guys but how black and white is it?

Rebel! Find the truth in cryptic wisdom and rise above! Destroy the wrongs of the world united with comrades.  
And join or die. Here's your victim.

* * *

~ There's too much blood it wont wash off. Too many faces with lifeless eyes staring. How many people now? Not all the cultists could have known what end they really served until too late to turn back and not all seemed keen to be there, some took the chance to run I think. But the others: They had such certainty of belief. Like they felt superior or invincible. Those who spoke did so with an assured authority. It's hard to describe how compelling that can be. It's worse when I know what they don't about their promised 'paradise' and how they'll suffer until it is destroyed.

Wouldn't have made it out of there without managing to take down Ruma as we fled and got cornered. At least those who attacked died quickly after that, less blood thanks to the bolt-staff.

Need to get back to Cheydinhal for my horse and head straight back up north with this bastard's book. It's got blood on it too. The sooner I can drop it the better. ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 11. 

It surprised me how badly the memories come back to hit me now I'm at Cloud Ruler again. As I gained distance from the Dagon shrine I'd begun to gradually justify discarding my remorse and pity.

They deserved to die. By their own self-serving dogma the weak fall to the strong. Their minds were weak to be just eager pawns. Worthless.

By the time I got here it was actually with a sure heart and stride, feeling stronger for my newfound clarity. Until I handed over the book.

Poor horse, it'll be ok with rest but I'd barely noticed how hard I pushed it. No, it's not just that, -I didn't _care_. I'd looked down with mild amusement at how merchants passing on the roads seemed cowering, wary of coming across any gates and Daedra. Looked down on the bandit breathing her last like a distanced observer.

There's not the comfort I was expecting being here in this temple right now. I'll stay in Bruma once I find the spies. ~

* * *

~ Jearl's dead but can't find the other one. Having some food at the Tap and Tac while waiting for now. Ongar here says she's usually there later from what he's noticed. Good guy this Ongar. We're Guild.

Big crowd here Olav does good booze. They don't believe me vodka's stronger though.~

~ Did you Know Edla can shoot asteel arroW into Stone ?  
shes so cool I told her I'M wreting it down. its like magic a litle bit but you foCUs energy into

the bow.~  
~ and I saw 2 forresters in a duel today One stole the other mans deerhe shot but I think he was insanne ~

~ NOrds are so awesome they can relly drink.  
they ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 12. Bruma. 

I'm in prison. Second time waking up in a cell with no memory of how I got there. Least I generally know how this one happened. Feel ill though. Vaguely remember singing a song about Vodka. Went down fairly well I think but the others crowded in the bar were already pretty merry too, so anything might have amused them. Don't believe I did anything major but my right hand hurts. I may have hit a guard for calling me 'hero'. I think they're letting me out now it's daytime and I'm conscious. Guard's coming now. ~

* * *

~ Found the second spy at Jearl's house and had a long cold sobering walk up here again. Steel hitting steel makes my head hurt. Too loud right now. Baurus chose today to offer to spar with me. Couldn't pass up some good tips still, and I needed to get myself together. I've learned a lot of things about fighting since being here and one of these is that there's still so much I can learn. Coming from wallowing in self pity to seeing the unwavering resolve of Cloud Ruler's protectors was a wake-up call, and they're relying on my help. They do give a damn about me too. Jauffre had for one been concerned I was as good as thrown to the lions. Martin's taking care with that book but I've got to help him.

Going to get some sleep here then retrieve 'Marborel' from the Bruma stables and head out. I'll try Azura but if the first vampire seems too strong I wont risk my neck any further. Seriously. Only others I remember clearly enough from the game are Sheogorath and Sanguine. I'll use the rest of today to recover and study the books here. Might be a long time before I find an artefact good to use for this purpose. Maybe I should try asking these Daedra lords if they know how I got here. Talking to the Aedra at chapel altars didn't get me anything. ~


	10. Chapter 10

~ Heartfire 13. Shrine.

Writing with the statue still just in view here before I move on. Difficult journey once I rode beyond the mountain paths but made it before nightfall. May have to hike in future if its terrain this mountainous since negotiating a path with the horse was tricky, especially dodging Oblivion gates along the way. The dread each time doesn't lessen, partly fear of what might jump out as I pass by. Each gate itself seems malevolent as it radiates power and flame and that soul jarring noise. It says no mercy to any who might enter.

After hearing Azuras instructions on the vampires I tried asking if she could tell me who or what was behind my being taken to this world. Stony silence just like at the chapels. The worshippers got pretty irate when I tried to demand a response too loudly and insistently. But I just couldn't shake the feeling I was asking the right Daedra, after hearing her speak. Couldn't let it go.

I figured if I could kill the vampires I could ask again, so went to test the strength of the first one just inside. Nearly as strong as a Dremora but I was prepared and it fell. Remembering the staff I advanced carefully further, listening as I took each slow step. On reaching the last two I emptied the staff entirely, back stepping rapidly as they came and timing my movements to dodge the arrows as they let fly. To my relief the Orc finally hit the floor, my last shots hitting his suddenly ashy corpse. Stumbled out of there exhausted and with a dry throat from all the ash in the air.

At the shrine I listened and stood defiant and ready to ask again, but I could swear she seemed to hesitate slightly near the end. That was new. It threw me off, so I started to walk away. I heard it then much quieter than her statue and as if right behind me; "Earth-born." I just stopped breathing and froze still to hear. "Strive. Seek…We will stand at the juncture between planes and ensure passage. Come what may." In spite of myself I asked "Home?" and heard the reply; "Yes. Now go."

That was more than I could have ever dared hope for so I pushed my luck no further in staying. But was that a royal 'we'? And juncture not junction? Guess I should be grateful. I really am. Finally some answers and hope all of my own. Wow. Decided to keep the hard-won Star if I can, particularly with need to recharge anything as life-saving as the staff in future. It now has none of the multitude pinpricks of light I could previously count within its gem. There are still two more shrines I should be able to get artefacts from with no danger of death too. Just prison. Again. ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 14. Cheydinhal.

There're gates all over the damn place. Too many. The legion can't cover all of them. The stables lady looked terrified as she pointed me to the nearest gate overlooking the city. This one I have to shut or face a lack of soldiers to aid in the battle to come at Bruma. I just know none of us can afford that.

Refreshing at the chapel to relieve my aching limbs, supplying, eating, repairing, and then out to find Farwil. ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 16.

Slept half the day. Needed that. Farwil and friend are alive. I'm happy to say. For all anyone might say about him he's actually pretty good in a fight, and one of the few brave enough to tackle a gate, even if in extremely careless judgement. But I like him. As technically good as the combat training of a pampered aristrocrat might be, this was probably the first real fight he's ever been in. Hope he learns to better look after those under his command though. I'd followed the trail of blood and bodies all the way to him. Must be an elfish thing to be so damn perky and cheery after all that. Huzzah.

Found a few nice items at least, a slight shimmer and glow identifying enchantments. I doubt the things in those pods are going to be from anything other than the obvious horror that comes to mind. Don't want to find out how the Daedra or maybe even nature in Oblivion makes the flesh stay animate from whatever victims must have once owned the items now inside them.

Farwil and his fellow remaining wayward knight looked on in distaste whenever I stopped to search these and the various corpses. It doesn't really unsettle my stomach anymore since it takes my concentration for the task at hand and anticipation at what I might acquire. I think they mistook this as bravery and went home impressed. I was only less terrified this time thanks to the huge feeling of relief at having allies in there. I helped fight where I had to but spent a lot of the time throwing healing at them both, and carefully examining every wall, ceiling and corridor ahead for hidden dangers. Dark inside the tower. As I remember, but your eyes adjust.

Made it out late morning the next day. Felt strange with how the absence of any discernable day and night in Oblivion leaves you with a distorted sense of time. Was very glad to face the Count with the best news both of us could have wished for. I'd forgotten there was a reward! This staff is incredible. I can feel its power; it's even stronger than my other staff.

Headed home to the guild to sleep, with tired, heavy feet but a light heart. The voices of the townspeople I can hear through the window this morning sound more upbeat too as they pass by on daily errands, no longer in the shadow of a gate.

Finishing breakfast then the now familiar routine of repairing, shopping, bartering and preparing. May as well stop off in the Imperial city as I need to head straight west for Sanguines shrine. Note-to-self: check by that bookshop Roland mentioned about Seridur and check up on Thoronir too. ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 18. Skingrad. 

Been a bit more wary about coming into town this time. Mythic Dawn assassins had been waiting for me in the Imperial city. Sharp eyed guards alerted me in time with their shouts and wasted no time waiting for the attackers to even strike. The guards wouldn't tell me much other than it currently being standing orders to be on the lookout for Mythic Dawn 'activity'.

Was mainly a lovely scenic journey across the Reserve to find Sanguines shrine again. Was a peaceful grassy region with birdsong around me as I rode. Beautiful creatures I've never seen before. One tiny pair twirling midair had long lacy tails spiralling as they flew together; another one I spotted was pale pink across its wings. What at first sight was a blackbird had piercing blue eyes, and I think the pretty grey ones were actually winged rodents of some sort from their faces. The birdsong faded as light did, and the thickening trees made it darker still. Activity at the shrine was fairly subdued too.

I've bought a new horse here for the ride onward to Leyawin. Wonder if they ever retrieved the last one I 'borrowed' then lost… This looks a damn long way on the map. Was wondering if I could cut through Elsweyr over the border, but when I asked around about a route a few people warned me against that. Not only are there apparently big political tensions there right now as well as gates, I could be mistaken for an Imperial agent against them based on my renown in Cyrodiil. An old Khajiit even gravely told of rumours of travellers being found dead on the roads with no signs of a fight or injury, and nothing taken. Maybe it was just a ghost story to intimidate and keep out foreigners but I won't chance the unknown in that.

Have to take care on leaving Skingrad since I hear there's now a gate in that strange graveyard to the north. ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 20. Bravil.

Learned something interesting today. A passage in the book the 'Lunar Lorkhan' mentions 'plane(t)s'. Maybe the civilisations they came from are now only confined to ancient memories and distorted legends, the knowledge and technology so advanced forgotten in formula and methods of creation; now only known by the mortal races as magic. But maybe the immortal Daedric gods know more of the origins and workings of the high technology. No -more like super technology- it's so advanced even I can barely recognise its true form has to be artificial. 'Planes' she said. The book was from that trapped guild mage's nightmare. To think that book was from in his mind. I hope I never dream I'm back there, with the imagination he had. Suppose at least it wasn't the guy's sex dream, could have been a far worse experience for a visitor than seeing his nightmare!

Yet another new horse to throw away money on but it's a long journey since I'm not stopping to rest here. Wasn't too rocky but had a fair amount of undergrowth to navigate through and bandit camps to avoid on the way here. Done my usual selling-off with both guilds supplies. I'm not fond of Bravil. It's damp and smells kind of mouldy like a swamp. The statue here freaks me out, no way in hell I'll ever kiss that thing, it can keep its luck.

But still may have to stay a little longer. I'm the only one with a chance of actually saving Aleron Locke as well as ending that sick hunt. I saved Menien in the Kvatch gate. As far as I know. I want to try. Can at least give him a weapon; tell him to hide until I come back outside. Already know he's trapped there. Poor bastard deserves a chance. If I succeed I'll write it. Have to at least try. Wish me luck. ~

* * *

~ Doesn't help I haven't slept but just being near the shrine of Sheogorath is frankly weirding me out. Don't know how long I was hearing it before I realised but the birds sing out of tune. There are things round here that aren't quite right, never mind just the worshippers, or victims possibly. Some of the trees have grown with the branches making unusual warped patterns. One looked like there was a twisted face in the trunks bark. Of course I had planned ahead so offered the gem, thread, and old lettuce. I hope there will be no long term consequences for Border Watch, because I plan on doing this. ~


	11. Chapter 11

~ Heartfire 25. Evening. Leyawiin. 

Rotten bastard I should have guessed. Oh I managed to cast that Stark Reality spell and was even beginning to let myself enjoy the mischief until it hit. No clothes fine. But no underwear? I've never been so happy to get arrested, just to get into some prison rags. I wasn't kept in too long luckily; think they figured out it was just a prank, although some may have taken it more lightly than others. Had left some of my weapons and armour stashed nearby in town. Enough supplies to keep me going until I reach the shrine again, but I'm still anxious to get the rest of my stuff back.

Equipped for as much defence as I should need to visit that fort and retrieve Dagails heirloom for my guild work. Without having to sidetrack too much from my obligation to this world as to it's fate, I'm nearly in sight of university access. Have to admit the idea of walking into a society of mages –as one of them- is pretty cool. I swear if I make it home I'm putting 'qualified wizard' on my work C.V. Strange though. I think I'll really miss this place. I've become so accustomed to being here. Having the chance to make a difference unlike any I ever could back home. Could even imagine building a life here…finding a good house, picturing it with every town I've seen. Anyway had too much time to just sit and think in the cell. Boredom sets in fast.

Need to head up and find Nocturnals shrine to see if I can get hold of that unbreakable lock pick. I'm still not great at using them so only have four left. Then I'll be able to stop by Border Watch as I travel back. Little more worried now about what surprises the Mad-God's job there could bring, seeing how Sanguines didn't quite go as expected. But one vital piece of information I remember, if accurate, is Wabberjack can weaken Dagon. Even for the sake of one shot that may not even do anything, I still think that is very much worth it if the need arises. Having to play dodge the building size Satan is not a pleasant prospect as it is.

All the information I came to this world with is from that game. But it seems evident someone or something from this world has influenced the games making on Earth. Are they reaching out to us? Or playing their own game with humanity? Surely the human races here somehow originated on Earth too. It does seem Azura is involved, but who else, and with what intent? Hope to find out more in the future. Nothing I can do for now but carry on.

Raining outside again. No point waiting until it stops. ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 28. Near Sheogorath shrine.

No big surprises luckily, just some more guilt on my part for all the poor dogs. Was smart to actually duck. The cheese stealing part was pretty easy with the Daedric lock-pick. No longer any need to be afraid of failure, and it adapts to each lock to an extent.

Good too as I'm badly low on cash and supplies again until I get back to Sanguine. Used all I had to get through the cave Nocturnals task led me to. The bear just inside wasn't a good sign. Even with calling a skeleton to take some of the beating that was another ordeal. I don't like to have to summon those things. Too freaky. It was quickly torn apart by the bear in the time I took to leap back, call my staff to hand and absorb my potions. Didn't hang around in there. Last cash went to an armourer again. If only I could figure out the knack to fixing up enchanted gear.

That'll have to be all for now, my horse is acting jumpy. It's looking around its feet as I write, like there's something there but I can't see anything. Best to gain some distance from here and get to Bravil.

For all I know I may not currently be in the best state of mind either, and it could well be paranoia but the guild leader Dagail was looking at me strangely after I gave her the Seers stone. Sort of curious, then deeply sad for a moment before composing herself to speak. She'd been mumbling about bears liking meat not honey as I came in the first time. And Nocturnal. When she said 'your world' there was an emphasis on '_your'_. No doubt it would be fruitless to delve into the meaning of anything coming from Nocturnal. ~

* * *

~ Heartfire 29. Skingrad.

Stopping here for tonight and then heading up to claim the artefact. This is the one I'll give to Martin to use. Can go via Chorrol back up north to Bruma as I still need to take a few hours to retrieve that book from Cloud Top Mountain for the local guildhall.

As for the gates I wont close the ones besieging the towns sooner than I have to. Will have to come back anyway when the time comes to ask for aid. It will all hinge on that fight.

Even the goblins are at war it seems. I witnessed two clans as good as wiping each other out in a battle outside of Skingrad. Good stuff. Left me free to take down the few injured victors and leave with all their weaponry to sell. That reminds me to avoid Glarthir on my way out of town in the morning. Saw him pacing around with that huge battleaxe strapped on his back as I came in. ~

* * *

~ Frostfall 1. Bruma.

Made good time thanks to cutting my travel distance by following a merchant's tip on a back road to Bruma. Felt oddly relieved to see Cloud Ruler still safely standing. As if the enemy might have struck if I was away too long. In spite of the cold it's nice to finally be back, and at least I have my fur armour again. Got everything back from Sanguine. –Weapons, armour, ingredients, supplies. Clothes. Nothing amiss unless counting that the statue was laughing as I left.

Soon I'll have to leave again to find the next relic for Martin but first there's the new gate here to take Burd and his guardsmen through. They want to see me in action. Oh god. ~


	12. Chapter 12

~ Suns Dusk 6. Bruma. 

Been a while since I last wrote. As good as abandoned the journal because I've been fairly busy I guess. Not to mention honestly how much easier it is after long days of fighting and travelling to just hit the sack. Sleep first thinking I'll get around to writing tomorrow. Used to seem more important to write some final words before going into danger. However I seem now to exist inside Oblivion as much as the outside world. This is part thanks to being so carefully methodical in advancing through each time. -Taking the maximum care, preparing as much as possible for each and every step. So there is little new to talk about. Although one longer stay was due to my searching an entire island after hearing tortured screams in the distance. I never did find the source, and the screaming eventually stopped.

As for my hopes in the beginning that someone from Earth might receive this diary. Well. I can't see it ever reaching there unless I do, and if it passes to someone here, any advice and knowledge I can offer is mostly covered now. If however there is one day another from Earth like myself, and you are reading this; these words are for you. Don't feel alone here. Through my experiences recorded here consider me your companion. I stand with you. What information, sketches, notes on magical aid and theory, combat techniques learnt in training and in practice, and meagre advice I have is all here for you. If you can add to what little I have found as to the method and reason of our coming to this world, please document it here along with your own story. For the future. Oh and don't try to eat with gauntlets on. It's difficult, poor manners, and looks idiotic.

I leave this book and any possessions once mine now unclaimed, to you. That's if I am no longer here to say this in person. Ok maybe it is my last words and will too. Might as well leave a last request then. If you find a way home, please inform my relatives of my fate. Address is noted in the front cover. If you dont; please do what you can here. Care for this world.

This all of course leads back to events at hand. The battle for Bruma is here. As soon as we all gather and the order is given the special Bruma guard patrols will be called back. The discreet presence of our own people has been preventing any agents having sufficient time to open a great gate nearby, although I've heard there have been relentless attempts. The defensive fighting is to take place on the frozen plains near Bruma and the route to Cloud Ruler Temple, as I could expect. This site was chosen. A gap in defences to be made specifically here. Two fronts for the attackers if fighting expands from this area, tactical advantage with the terrain, and our forces standing at the ready. We know The Dawn will see we are purposely allowing this gap. It is an open challenge as far as they, and even our own soldiers will be concerned, and in their arrogance will take it as a desperate show of force that cannot win against the siege crawler.

Martin, Jauffre and the Blades have a better grasp than I could of it all. They've been discussing tactics and preparations. You should see the forces involved. The cities didn't send single troops but units. Again the game must have only represented a smaller scale of it all. The battlefield I have passed every time going to Cloud Ruler. It's massive as I see it, as will be this fight. Dagon's forces will likely be as numerous as ours. I'm as prepared as I could hope to be in what little time I've had up until now. It will be a fight to the death out there I would never want part in. But there are people I care about now facing this, and I have to be at their sides.

Been going over sketches of the route to take from what I remember. Damn lucky this one of the last points I replayed, and it's still clear in my memory. Just dump my heavy gear on the field, throw on everything that will help my speed, cast invisibility inside the Great Gate, and run.

If there's one thing I've truly found I'm good at here given the right incentives, its running. Goes against all my careful tactics to leave a trail of monsters to potentially gang up as I pass. Given how long it took to appear after the Kvatch gates opening, according to surviving witnesses, the siege crawlers advance will likely be the same speed. I should be able to race to the Sigil Keep in time.

When this is all finally over I must take the time to recount properly all that's happened. Perhaps shock everyone with my knowledge of Earth. If it is even believed. If not I could at least become quite the 'author' with all the tales yet unheard here.

* * *

For now, regarding events until this entry neglected in my diary; the first I mention must be on the gate foray with Captain Burd. He for one deserves being noted as a man you can be proud to have known. Maybe an example of the great spirit of the Nords, and very competent without pretence. He deferred to my lead inside that gate but I was glad of his company. Heard he and his men shut their own fair share of gates while I was away.

After such sure company it's hard to describe how devastating it felt to go it alone again, sitting huddled against cold stone in the night air at Sancre Tor, perching on ruins through long hours shooting and casting down undead. Dead but not completely mindless, as they do try to climb up at times. Funny how the skeletons seem smarter than zombies in general. For want of conversation I amused myself by talking to some and giving them names. At least those few poor ghosts inside the place could speak back. Staff in hand I took no chances against their ancient fighting prowess though. With their souls release the air of the place felt a little less oppressive as I left in the light of morning. It was clear enough for a magnificent view down to the Imperial City from the Orange road. Was an uplifting reminder of how much is worth standing for, as those souls at Sancre Tor had stood for it too.

Was a sadder sight to see the gate at Chorrol mocking the spot I would have liked to treasure as the place I stood with Martin not so long ago, first setting eyes on the expanse of stars far above. After resting in town it was satisfying at least to see that gate become a smouldering ruin once I finished working my way through. Even if I did get a little lost in that one.

When done with business in Chorrol I returned to Kvatch. It seems the last residents who haven't left the camp already just don't want to, and there are signs of people stoically looking to rebuild. Lumber and building tools laying about, temporary tents and shelters becoming more improved, the people busier with daily living.

Continuing straight on I made it to the Port of Anvil by evening. The guild job amounted to more or less a pleasant stroll the next day, seeing how my escorts took out the rogue mage before I had to even defend. I recalled a legion soldier in the game always being there with his dead horse, who oddly wasn't this time. Just a disembowelled Clannfear and signs of a fight, so hopefully he fared ok.

After a few days it was time to move on from Anvil, but I hope to return one day. The breezy sea air and well kept streets, if you can excuse the port area itself, make it a relaxing place on a sunny day.

I think it was around the 12th of Frostfall when I arrived in Skingrad again, and managed to sneak in to see the count, thankfully only just inside the private quarters. He was fairly upfront and reasonable compared to Seridurs easy deceit but it leaves me unsure how much he was looking out for the well-being of his 'cattle' as he was his 'people', even subconsciously. Maybe the first semi demonic blood drinker I met just left the wrong impression. Maybe also because my most recent route back to the Imperial City in the days following this meeting happened to take me past Memorial cave, hidden monument to Seridur's true face and cruelty.

This reminds me, the next time I stopped in the City after Skingrad I did actually manage to chase down the High Chancellor Ocato to ask for aid for Bruma. His reaction struck me that for all his power he truly was powerless to help with any spare troops. I could tell it was the truth, because he walked away in shame. As loyal to empire and emperor as they come, even for someone in such a high position of governance himself.

On reaching Bravil and handing over the Mages staff I was tempted to race directly back to the city, as Kud-Ei surprised me on counting my recommendations and confirming my allowance into the Arcane University.

But of course the gates came first, and after Bravil was the final one I needed to destroy at Leyawiin. Luckily either the count didn't recognise me from my previous escapades or didn't care. More importantly, by chance I found a comrade of sorts. I thought it hopeless but put out the offer anyway. If I helped Mazoga would she help me? You know she actually accepted! Thought I was impressed then, but it wasn't until we went through that gate I got to know her more, as abrupt as she is to talk to. I'd used foreknowledge of her story of the friend she lost, to knowingly reason that many people could lose loved ones if I failed to shut the gate. Her idea of becoming a knight may be poorly formed but I think she is honest and capable of doing a lot of good. We even took on the gate before her personal cause. Still, needs to work on her patience, but maybe impatience is a virtue in its own way too.

* * *

On the 20th of Frostfall I finally stood facing the Arcane University. No one else may have been that ecstatic but I was damn proud. It's fairly busy inside the grounds and at first sight there are a lot of interesting 'students' wandering around. Although the actual students do mainly seem to be younger ones doing paid for studies, a lot of the mages are apparently guild members following their own research, studies and developments. Elitism is evident as I noticed, with some of the better-off and higher class members expecting and being accorded different levels of respect with regard to their access to altars, materials, and room usage. Fancier robes flowing with exquisite bright detail on brocade and silks, staves with brilliant gems glowing with power. But not necessarily better magical ability.

Next would be the second aspect of the elitism I witnessed. I suppose it's the equivalent of sporting ability, but depending on their magicka pool and skill for destruction for example, some mages wont give others the time of day, staying to their own clichés.

Last but not least one more type does stand out, and that's the dark mages, as I see them. Too much delving too deep into magical properties. Too unguarded curiosity into likely sinister concepts in magic. Not that they'd want to be noticed but it shows. I've seen it enough already to recognise, in the way they act, in their faces sometimes passive, sometimes etched with cruelty, in their eyes. Even in this place I passed one who smelled like he'd been in a cave or a tomb. Rot. Even the feel of the magika in the air felt colder and darker. And that was before the training I put myself through here in Bruma in preparation. It's now a little more understandable how easy it is to get a bit giddy with the power. As you become more aware and practised, sensitivity to the magicka all around, in the air and every object and living being grows heightened. As if you could almost grasp the very essence in your surroundings and yourself and twist and form it as you please. Like fanning a fire but held in an empty hand closed over. Or calling to and pulling the threads of a soul out of shadowy depths to your own command and will. Warping gravity and the very light around you. No wonder so many mages including those among bandits I've fought behaved like they felt invincible.

Didn't stay long at the University anyway once I was finished with the spell and enchanting altars and materials. Felt safest to not be remote from Bruma even longer, with only the reliance on those mages peering into crystal balls that I can't figure out how to use myself yet.

* * *

So I've been living in a basement room at the Bruma Fighters Guild over the last week for my training rather than going back to the University for it. The Guild tolerates it and leaves me in peace to focus. I'm sure those here do wonder among themselves why I'm not staying next door. The porter did express concern on behalf of everyone about the muffled screams and crying they heard. Wasn't aware till then I'd made much noise, but my destruction magic could only advance fast enough that way, targeting myself with repeated offensive spells, then healing in turn. And no; you'd think and hope so but pain doesn't get much easier or lesser. Healing restores the nerve endings too. Not that you don't also get dizziness and arm ache after long sessions.

I already had some time prior to coming back here to practise my spell casting as I travelled. After leaving the University and having closed the cities gates and re-visited Cheydinhal too, I made it back to Cloud Ruler with both Tiber Septims armour and news of allies.

The final item; this Great Welkynd Stone was still needed before Martin could think about the Great Sigil Stone. So again I had time to practice magic on the way down via Chorrol, then Skingrad, to Miscarcand, then back up to Bruma.

Miscarcand still had me scared of how strong an enemy it might hold. Was a good thing I took care. On reaching the stone I planned carefully. Lightened my load of all I didn't need, and jumped to and from the platform in the corner. Even if the King turned out able to float that high, the zombies couldn't climb up. When ready I snatched the stone and made the most terrifying leap of my life. Even though it wasn't too far and I'd been practising back and forth for the last hour. I kept up my summons to give them all something else to focus on, while dodging all the magic from the enraged undead whatever-the-hell he was, and shooting back with my staves.

Even with the agonising and strenuous training I've never been so thankful to be in the comforting surroundings of a Guildhall in a town again. I'll do all I can to defend them. ~


	13. Battle

Authors Note: A dozen people and a few tents. Not so realistic. And gee what a fight. Hence the more respectable idea it could be proportional representation due to game loading limits. This journal entry is continued in next chapter.

* * *

~ Suns Dusk 7. Cloud Ruler Temple.

It was absurdly peaceful coming back up here but the rush and clamour of the gates battle still fills my head. Supposed to be resting while Martin completes the ritual and portal creation, but that's not so easy right now. And it feels right to be recalling the day while memories are still fresh. If I shut my eyes I can see it all happening as if in the moment. And this is important. I don't know how but events were changed.

The enemy gave us battle in our favour from the start, already limited to coming at us from the gate positions. But they also seemed to care little for solidifying a defence or attacking en masse, such is the dremora attitude to attaining personal honour through combat. Their lesser creatures such as the fire atronachs were their source of covering fire-casting. It appeared the only plan of importance was to aid the eventual advance of the siege crawler, with the rest of the fighting purely for glory and cruel supremacy.

I wanted to help the defenders as best I could before leaving them all when the main gate appeared, so was frustrated when my blade first swung against empty air; the newly materialised dremora having ignored me to instead charge the ranks. It was otherwise still good advantage to catch a few out as the world came into focus for them and before too many could come through.

If the men had been nervous it didn't show once given a target. They finally had the chance for pay-back on behalf of friends and empire, called on by this golden clad leader himself standing as defiant as his ancestors. For their beloved Emperor Uriel, for Kvatch and the countless fallen.

The waiting once gathered in formation for the first gate had us all on edge. Impatience and anticipation as much as anything else, with a strange sense of abandon dispelling any fear; our fates from then on in the hands of the gods. And, since the forces had massed in Bruma they already had all the waiting they could stand, as it showed in the gleam of many well sharpened weapons and polished helms and shields that reflected the red gate glow as it arose.

The wait on the field was short enough that morale did not falter. –Some men could be heard muttering a small prayer to Stendarr, Akatosh and Talos; I saw one kissing an amulet and another caressing the worn hilt of her sword. One grim faced Leyawiin soldier was grumbling dryly about the cold and being kept waiting by Dagon.

It felt more like I was in a movie or a re-enactment in the making.

Arrows flew overhead as more creatures began to come through the gate, frost from the ground turning to vapour as the flame atronachs set foot. Once the second gate rose the smoke from both clouded the air of the already electric red sky, and cross-winds obscured parts of the battlefield as the fighting spread.

Wasn't long before I had to leg it back toward the ranks, my feet crunching on the cold rocky ground. I threw healing wherever I saw blood, and stuck close to Martin from then on, keeping his section in sight. The air filled with electrical charge and smelled of burning as bolts and flares whizzed overhead or hit shields with a dull 'whump', and the yell of soldiers as the remainder of the shot dispersed and burned through to their shield arms.

Their training and discipline held, and although the dremora do not tend to waver even under wounds, our enemy faced an increasingly vicious fight the more they came. For all the strength of the Daedra they don't carry the same desperation mere mortals share when faced with losing our lives when we clash swords. It can become an entirely different fight when an opponent has both everything and therefore nothing to lose.

By the time the Great Gate loomed it was in a chaotic scene. I had been pushing back with my shield at the time against the assault of a scowling and goading dremora, before shifting my weight and sidestepping to unbalance him, finally taking him down with the help of the soldier behind me lunging with her sword against his unguarded throat. The next I parried as he charged then fell with an indignant roar with my follow-through coming full swing.

What was left of the sky at this point became completely blocked with the last gate, and shouts of 'there!' and 'go!' pierced me like arrows. The effect was strangely like a starter gun, and before I let myself even think I was sprinting at the damned thing, throwing off weighty gear as I ran and calling my planned gear to hand.

Precious Fortify-Speed appearing in my palm then vanishing as I felt it flowing throughout my body. A matching spell to bolster the effect. Potion of Feather absorbed, staff in place of sword as back up, hand on gate, and the instant the light changed; invisibility!...

Invisibility, which immediately fell as I was hit with a bolt. No open path with enemies dotted ahead on the route. No path permitted. Just death. It wasn't supposed to happen like that. Why were they waiting for me? I was surrounded.


	14. Chapter 14

Authors Note: Continued from previous chapter as same journal entry.

* * *

Well obviously I made it out of that to be here writing about it. And of course not so much thanks to finding any superhuman skill as finding out just how slippery a bastard I can be to catch with no unwieldy armour and having been almost off my head on a potion-high. I know I've become fairly well practised at making them considering how I always toss everything I can find into the alchemy set. It's become quite the obsessive hobby now I think on it, and a lucky thing. Saved my backside.

The entire section encompassing the gate was crowded with dremora churls, two spider dremora, and even a few xivilai from the look of them. Standing at the centre of this crowd with folded arms was what appeared to be one of the higher ranking dremora. I can see his face even now. Gloating. It was an organised ambush, and I still don't know how or why things happened that way or why there had been no warning in the game of such a move at this time.

But my mind didn't get much time to register. –Not sure if it was rapidly dawning terror that made me act so fast, the potions and spell that were making everything seem to unfold so slowly to my distorted senses, or my reflexes moving on instinct. A combination I think now in retrospect. For a few seconds it seemed there was a pause before they surged to attack, and it was then I half fell back and stepped through the gate. The whole lot closed in after me to the rear side section, and as they bunched together I aimed for two churls to the side of the then thinnest part of their rank.

I summoned everything I had and burned every carefully hoarded scroll in my hand, seeing them flicker like the turning pages of a book as I willed them to hand and they vanished in near unison. Staff in hand I blasted a way through and without stopping, ran two steps up the red-black stone to launch past the oncoming dremora, as new pain seared and tore through my arm, back, shoulder and jaw.

Was almost surprised to get away but had underestimated my own speed, so I kept running without looking back, as I noticed my feet seemed to be having difficulty keeping up with the ground. The smaller spider creatures were the quickest moving, and I saw one of the football sized threats nearly arc in to intercept my feet. As if I needed more reason to go faster. My heart wasn't so much beating anymore as vibrating solidly, but my prevailing worries once inside the first tower were how long that must have delayed me, how fast that group was already closing in to reach the entrance, and trying to think straight on the directions that had featured clearly in my now pain fogged mind on entering Oblivion moments before.

Blood was in my eyes and I don't remember being struck but my jaw also felt broken, missing teeth on that side only materialising back as I garbled a healing spell. With one arm in the air keeping healing as I ran up, my directions began to form again once I flew through the falling traps, the last one catching my other arm. A multitude roar and echoing of armoured boots was adding to the growls of Clannfear and the others inside who were already in pursuit.

With the only thought past this awareness now being on the next door to reach I didn't hesitate and never once stopped, but for the few doors that opened too damn slowly. I only even realised my left arm had been taken off at the elbow by that trap when my continuing healing bought it back.

By the time I was in the open outside my aim was clear again on where to head, and nothing was going to match my speed. It was surreal to dodge and shove past dremora on walkways without fighting. When at last at the Sigil Keep and conjuring a distraction for the waiting keeper, I forced myself to pause in order to pick the lock, and scrabbled up the final steps to the Sigil.

With the dremora guard inside coming up behind I made a dive to grab the stone. Whirled round thinking he had come out too but was faced instead with a barren and torn up battlefield littered with bodies of men and monsters. Made it a full turn as clunking alerted me to the huge machine falling broken in the gate at my back. I was afraid of what I might find but Martin had made it, and his forces were taking care of the last remnants of the enemy. Not sure how many people or even whole units we lost but for the most part are number was little diminished.

Avoided as best I could looking too closely at those fallen. Each an entire life over without any more chance to fulfil hopes and dreams. Absent parents, sons and daughters, loves and friends. Funny though, how often these lifeless fighters just have this surprised expression frozen on their faces. And where no wounds are obvious some just look like they're resting or asleep. Dreaded the chance of recognising any of them.

As the failed siege crawler stopped functioning I knew this was truly the victory I had worked all this time for. Must have been in shock from it all, not to mention coming down from multiple alchemic and spell effects, because instead of joy or pride and accomplishment I just felt nothing. Yet again my comrades mood of unfettered triumph has me in awe.

And now I can't be sure what else awaits after that ambush. Does the enemy know more than I know? If they'd wanted to capture me I'm not sure but am glad I didn't find out. At least there is finally the relief of knowing the worst is now done, as much as danger still exists. One last fight. I can not rest until Martin reaches his destiny. And then who knows, maybe my own hopes can be fulfilled.

Going to visit my armourer in town and retrieve my helmet from wherever on the battlefield I must have thrown it. Then 'Paradise'. Which I'm sure is just as the brochure describes. ~


	15. Chapter 15

~ Suns Dusk 8.

Well to give the place credit it really could have been a paradise if you removed all the nasty creatures and poor damned souls. The air was pleasantly warm after having only felt the generally icy weather of Cyrodiil's north for so much of the time. The sweet smell that reminded me of roses and fresh fruits turned out to be coming from those mana blooms. Knowing the place would be gone soon I think I wrecked every last one of them in search of precious cuttings. Was tempted to rest for a while in one of the more secluded of the ornate gleaming white terraces, seeing as how the residents must have had instruction to not attack or hinder the intruder. But you'd never know if someone might spy a chance of gaining favour from my death if I let my guard down. Best not to ask for trouble. Especially with the prospect of the enemy already changing their actions and my not knowing the cause behind it or what more schemes were going on away from my own eyes.

And on that, Cameron's Paradise also didn't fail to disappoint.

Mankar himself didn't _seem_ to know anything extra in particular. His familiar long speech felt ironic with such fake knowingness, yet unaware as to my origin. Still, it did make me jump a little with the voice coming out of the blue, and sounding both far off and as if spoken right into my ear. Was looking over my shoulder enough as it was.

On speaking to some of the people, found they varied between those who were now newly awoken to the true form of the promises of deserved immortality and lordship, and those still desperately loyal in the face of this. Couldn't tell them it would be over soon. What other consolation could you give to those who had rallied to the calls of torment and death for all who didn't share their wisdom to see the 'truth'? And knowing their own choices and scorn for mercy, how could they ask for any? So mostly found they spoke little, some of regrets and some of fears for their old friends and families. None asking anything other than to leave them in peace, but still in their eyes a plea was there, as if they didn't dare hope.

The dremora Kathutet was interesting, and part in curiosity, part from deciding it safer and smarter to give him reason to not come after me later, I opted to do his task. That went as expected, and both demons seemed to have no additional knowledge, or orders to interfere.

But somehow Cameron had known how of I was to get through the grotto. It was Eldamil. Although it was my first time meeting him I knew he was acting strangely. Something wasn't right about him.

As much as places, peoples appearances, voices and words often differ slightly here from those that resembled them in the game, there are still the same loyalties and even personalities to an incredibly accurate extent. If I hadn't been so on edge already from the voice of the gardens master, and wary after the Great Gate I might have dismissed it as just another minor difference of character.

I remembered this guy being regretful but also contemplative and fairly lightly spoken, even brave and defiant when he helps. But he looked defeated, weary. And kept avoiding looking me in the eye as he told of his story and the way through the grotto by pretending to be a captive. The shadows of suspicions were enough when the dremora in charge, Orthe, came and after telling the trick captive story; the altmer didn't add that small sarcastic quip I remembered.

Before they could finish I pivoted and swung my sword at Orthe's back. If Eldamil looked only a little surprised and dismayed at my change of decision, he looked stunned as I caught his eye and snapped 'I don't believe you!' His reaction cemented it. With the guilt in his face of someone caught, he hesitated in moving, but in the end made the choice to draw his weapon and help take down all three dremora. Helped, but kept out of my range, understanding that I had reason then to not trust him.

He didn't say a thing until after I paused to listen for other possible attackers nearby, then confronted him. The prisoner cage, supposedly false to allow crossing over the lava pit; I assume originally carefully altered to give respite to his fellows from the torture, had been sealed as a trap. Once stepping in and lowered there was not the escape that had been meant to happen. When I demanded to know why, he apologised sincerely and confessed, talking on the move as the dremora could revive very soon by then.

The leader of The Dawn, Mankar Cameron himself had come down to the grotto the day before. I believe in the time following my escape from the Gate ambush. He had summoned Eldamil, and walked up to the false pit cage, smiling as he complimented the ingenuity of it and then pointing out how in his own Paradise he was all-knowing. The cage was then fixed. In a twisted offer of mercy and forgiveness for treachery it was made clear to Eldamil: Further to the individuals currently occupying the grotto for their weakness of doubting their cause and betraying it, Cameron was, he said, aware of every other resident of the Garden who also was no longer faithful. The grotto would be filled.

But: If just one such fallen Mythic Dawn member could prove himself repentant and reformed in service of his benevolent master, it would suggest the others, including those already in the grotto, could also be reasoned with. As a final motivation Eldamil was then imprisoned and lowered in one of the cages until the time I entered Paradise. At no point had he been told the actual facts that led up to all this. To think,- that creepy voice was saying the same words I could expect yet wasn't bluffing this time about the whole knowing I was coming part.

I asked him why then he was now helping me fight through the caverns instead of fighting me when I was outnumbered. He reasoned that Orthe himself had witnessed the trap failed only because I chose to attack, and having failed to capture me Eldamil's own actions were now of little consequence. If I was killed there I had no link to paradise to revive me.

It was at this point he in turn confronted me, hesitating at the wrist bands preventing my exit from the place. What if I was not strong enough to defeat Cameron? If I failed, the suffering would continue forever, but by leaving me trapped alive at least in the grotto and reporting this, his task could be considered fulfilled. How could I be capable for certain of winning and destroying this place once and for all?

Wow did I wish I had that Voice of the Emperor ability of Imperials. Instead I had to go with shameful deceit. I could only fully agree with Eldamil's reasoning, but needed to face Cameron none the less. Couldn't risk him doubting any further, so said what I'll always feel guilty for saying, in spite of all he had done in the past for the Mythic Dawn. Vaguely remembering his game self's dialogue I took a chance and told him Azura sent me, then smiled a traitors smile and added that I wouldn't fail; Azura hears the prayers for those around him and will deliver their souls from false paradise, because it took honesty and courage to question their own cause and sins. Was afraid for a second when a frown crossed his face, but he touched a spell of release to my wrist bands without delay and turned forward with new determination, promising to aid my fight if I would accept it.

People used to look at me dismissively when the 'Hero of Kvatch' story first spread, then more impressed and respectful after having themselves seen gates and the Daedra. With so much darkness here you can't underestimate the power of peoples need to believe in a hero, and even playing up to a fake image has its uses.

For all his apparent knowledge of Tamriel, Mankar Cameron just didn't get it. –If Tamriel under whatever name it's known is a world of change, this is because it is a world of growth, not simply upheaval and conflict. As for his 'truth', either way I doubt most histories here have the whole undistorted story about Lorkhan and their gods' beginnings. But I know at least this; there's only one beginning to our universe that matters, and not from some limited, failing super-being.

You know, he stared at Eldamil, but didn't even bring up a mention of the trap earlier. Just sat there preaching with the damn amulet drawing my gaze around his neck. The one I'd as good as given him in order to aid the ultimate weakening of the barriers. To even be wearing it, what twisted, disowned bloodline of bastards was he from? He didn't look fully Altmer. More tanned than golden and a hint of stubble, so maybe part Imperial, Nord or Bosmer? Would explain in part why he didn't go down so fast as a common bandit wizard.

My only words to him before swinging my sword hard and fast to interrupt his speech were 'You don't know where I'm from.' Was like hitting a damn statue; had aimed in a downward arc toward his neck but only created a gash across the breastbone as he reacted. Every injury I created I had to share thanks to his partial reflecting, but two can play at that thanks to armours and spells. No matter how much he tried to back off I stuck to him, not stopping the assault till he fell. Eldamil had Raven's attention, while I stayed on whichever side of Cameron that had him between me and Ruma, and hacked away until his robe was red and his body cut apart despite his abnormal strength in withstanding the assault. Other than supported by potions including those for shielding and healing I used on entering the palace, I had to endure the returning hits of staff and spells. Due to practise and training my own body's resistance against magic inflicted injury has also certainly grown, even giving benefit to my ability to take hits physically.

As much as I almost wasn't expecting it when he finally dropped dead, from the comically confused look on his face I don't think he was expecting it either. As the entire place began to crumble and blur, the very fabric of his creation coming apart with its anchor lost, I wheeled round automatically trying to see what became of Eldamil. Ruma just fell to her knees like a dropped puppet, and further down from the throne I caught sight as Eldamil fell too. Oddly, I thought for a moment I saw him blink and mouth something as he fell. Azura? The building was so distorted then I didn't see him even hit the floor, all in the space of what must have been seconds. I'm sorry Eldamil.

I dragged the amulet all of this had been for off Cameron's neck, and everything finally fell away.

* * *

And now here I am one last time. Surely I've done all that was asked of me. Now it will be Martin's turn to shine. The barriers must already be too weak by now, unbeknown to most. I expect Mehrunes Dagon is now only waiting for Martin to reach the city before breaking through and crossing over triumphant to attack. I only have to bodyguard until the temple, and then Martin can take care of everything. It will be a sight to see, and one I know I can look on with pride for him, and not regret.

And then, who knows. I think I'll travel up to Azura's Shrine once more. Find out if I've done enough from her words when previously there. It's my only lead, and given the chance I've no choice but to try to reach home again, just to make sure those who care for me there know I'm ok. But at the same time I don't think I want to leave this world behind anymore. All that's happened and I want to still try life here. Crazy huh? Maybe explore this continent a little more, head north to Skyrim. Better yet get a house nicer than a shack and spend some time reading and researching more of this world. Barely had a chance to do more than skim a few pages until now, but the books I've seen are huge compared to those the game had, thick with printed pages. Just remembered- people will call me Champion. Bizarre.

Martin is in a rush to get moving but again; I'm not taking any risks at this point in time after coming so far. Will need to stop by Bruma to supply and repair. Should still be able to reach the Imperial City by the early hours of tomorrow, even if we have to rest the horses at an inn on the way. Expecting there will be a very subtle escort of Blades within range as we travel, to not attract attention yet in case of any further enemy attack. Easy to forget they can be so stealthy. But I've only mainly seen the Blade guards and soldiers, whereas they are also the empires, or more like emperors spy network.

It's still a shame Martin wont be able to enjoy life as an emperor. He's a good man. I'll miss him. ~

* * *

Authors Note: This was the final journal entry. What follows is narration of the concluding events.


	16. Azuras Mercy

Authors Note: I tried to put a lot of lore relevant references and themes in here. There're some gems of background story to be found on the 'Elder Scrolls' world especially if you do a web search for common sites, and not to forget the 'Imperial Library' site!

Regarding my mention of barriers, I figured the Arcane University would logically have some unseen hand in defence, considering; the importance of Battlespire, magical barriers from basic spells to the dragonfires, it is also centred on a presumably ancient tower, and the residents have some confidence in talking about the district as a separate entity from the rest of the city. My way of explaining how the tide was held back long enough the whole city didn't have successfully summoned gates.

Narration and scenes only now. Author POV this chapter, various character POVs to follow.

* * *

Chapter 16. Azura's Mercy.

Under the twin hued glow of the moons the Imperial City shone like a cog at the centre of the land, true to its place as a centre of machinations throughout many ages past as well as times to come.

The gods are not interested in the every affair of the mortal plane, but unfolding at this time was not only the climax of events that would determine the future of Tamriel, even Nirn, but what also had implications on the shifting balances of power where various beings held interest. Balances that had generally been naturally kept, through varying levels of strength, allegiances, enforcements and agreements to avoid direct interference. Hence the existence of the Aedric altars and Daedric shrines served by their followers. As the moons waxed and waned, and civilisations of mortals rose and fell, so to did the standing and influence of the gods also fluctuate over time.

Usually a long time.

* * *

When the attack on the city began and word was rushed to the tower, the palace guard who had been watching the Hero of Kvatch already pacing the council chamber with drawn sword, had to put the concern to the side for later. What must surely have been the extreme suspicious guardedness of the emperor's escort. Because otherwise it was foreknowledge.

He also observed as the gasps of shock echoed through the gathering when the reporting soldier burst in and spoke, only one person showed no surprise. But what questions he may have found for the hero after the crisis were to go unasked. In the battle for the city that followed many would fall; and his own place in the ensuing fight was to safeguard the group's passage, so the emperor Martin would not fall. His lifetime of devotion and service to the empire had led up to this moment! His heart welled with pride, anger for the gall of the attack, and a strength of joy that despite his age he knew would be a force to reckon with. For this beautiful city. For ancestors and heirs. Empire! Glory!

Smoke reached into the night sky above the walls as gate after gate rose. Paving stones worn smooth by the passing of countless feet over centuries cracked apart as the red and black thorned arches pushed up through the ground. As the sounds of bewildered shouts and screams grew they became interwoven with the crackle and scream of the gates.

As the Daedra unceasingly poured through the gates and soldiers and guards rushed to the defence, the battle spread across the palace and temple districts, reaching the imperial barracks, and barriers strained against incursion further into the city districts. The small party fighting to carve a path through to the Temple of the One barely stood out in the chaos. But for the regal attire of the central figure and the red sweep of robes of the golden battle-mage in combat, staff held high then swinging down in surges of light against charging foes.

While the Daedra lords of differing cares and natures were disinclined to interfere even in such a pivotal event, to the people of the city it was less clear why the divines, as the Imperials called them, did not act with immediate intervention when Dagon himself stood in front of the temple, towering over all. Even among the immortal gods, the Prince of Destruction was not the first you would have want of conflict with or to take lightly where he made claim. But this was not the reason. It was the possible reaction of a yet sleeping power that was anticipated.

Whether the hero's failure was the result of facing an unexpectedly huge number of enemies that would otherwise have killed the emperor, or from simply being overwhelmed as any can be sooner or later, the battle was not to end with one combatants fall. Martin reached the temple alone.

As light erupted from the broken dome of the temple and formed into the shape of the colossal dragon, all eyes were drawn to the duel between Dagon and the avatar of Akatosh. Unnoticed by most was the bloodied hand that reached up from the ground to the distant sight of them, face turned with great effort up toward the scene. The hero forgotten in defeat while the battle raged on, now weakly fighting only for each next breath. Just a little longer.

- "What do you seek Mortal?" -

If any nearby had seen the last words mouthed by the hero they would have struggled to hear, and not seen to whom it was spoken. Azura smiled gently as she received, and granted, the request that was the answer to her question. It was "Home… I want ... to stay."

As red sky cleared to black one among many broken bodies laying on the cold pavestones sighed a last, relieved breath, blood smeared face falling into a final torn smile. Empty eyes staring up at the star filled night.

As the new day's dawn spread slowly across the changed land and the moons faded, Azura looked from this, to the stone figure in the Temple of the One, and reflected that conflict and war doesn't always allow farewells. With good grace she ignored that her guest was uninvited, as he genially approached with the tap of a cane on the floor, and in a pleasant high tone and throaty growl exclaimed; "My! Azura!... killed another one?"


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: Kinda got a little carried away writing this, so it's grown a bit from a basic epilogue to a series of narratives from multiple points of view. More notes later to explain and expand on details.

* * *

Chapter 17. Epilogue: Agendas of Gods and Mortals.

1.

Eldamil fell on his face. Whether damned or forgiven he thought the afterlife would be more spiritual, and not entered with such an awkward landing. The first sight to greet him as he slowly began to lift from his sprawled position was grey ground in front of his nose, a wall coming into view a few paces up from this. Light; streetlight coming from his left confirming the end of the wall formed the corner of a building. And leaning to his right…

A short lock of blonde hair fell forward from under his hood to obscure his eyes, which briefly widened as they refocused past this on the familiar blue clad figure he found he had been next to. What was left of Mankar Cameron, thankfully very much dead. The mangled face unnervingly close to his own when the altmer had leaned too far as he looked to that side. And yet Eldamil was alive. After Kvatch he had been physically alive again in Paradise, but that was only due to his soul's bond to the place, held in immortality to service. And Cameron was that bond. And now it was severed there should be no tie left to Tamriel that would allow this continued life, so where was he?

In this untidy state of thought and appearance these observations formed as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Wherever this was it was night. The only sounds apparent at first a few scattered voices, and the muffled hum of some very upbeat music coming from one of the buildings nearby. Staring at the body, he decided it sensible to venture out from the alley to assess the situation better.

As he reached the edge soft footsteps warned too late of the approaching figure, whose shadow the streetlights sent to his feet as the woman stopped abruptly to face him. "You! You're here too? It's Eldamil! How did we get here? Where is this? What happened, do you know?" The red robed breton had directed part of this excitable barrage to her right side away from them. As more footsteps and voices came together he stepped back in hesitation.

She had been one of the subordinates sent to the forbidden grotto, to be tortured. He remembered her as one of many begging him not to lower the lava cage when ordered to, or when lowering one that would raise the linked cage to give the other prisoner temporary relief, as even death would not release them. Faces of betrayal, panic, and desolation when he none the less pulled the lever. Former comrades who had expressed regret and unwisely whispered doubts as he had, but caged while he was not. A special punishment from the master who had known his lieutenant well to foresee the pragmatic option Eldamil would take. Serve there, with only the unspoken alternative; join them. It wasn't a choice, but Cameron liked to pull his puppets strings to make them feel they chose their actions.

Still, how could they forgive him now? He stood trapped in the alleyway, awaiting the confrontation and his fate. But she and the other two incoming members were staring past, to the ragged blue remains behind him. Finally one broke the silence that had fallen as they gathered, the redguard; "Is he dead? For sure?" Following their gaze Eldamil nodded once, and the breton pitched in again; "Did…did you?" Despite the look of thankfulness from her he wasn't about to lie to save himself, so responded "No", and briefly recounted the act of the Hero of Kvatch.

The redguard's face clouded for a moment, then more sternly he looked at Eldamil and said, "All we've known these past days has been torture, some at your hand." He paused, "But we all know too well of the actual villain to thank for that, and how much during that time you tried to help us all, even in that damned place." He looked to the others, "Every one of us has done terrible things under the Mythic Dawn. Yet we live. If this is another chance we are being given, that you are here means it is for you as well. And you may hold back your words but that blood left on your robes isn't yours is it? You fought too. You helped end it."

Eldamil didn't know what to say to that, bowing his head slightly in thought as this reprieve came, still wondering if he deserved it. Like them he had defied the Dawn, but unlike most it wasn't at first out of horror or pity for their victims, but in the very moment of his death literally at the hands of those in Kvatch. A surprised respect for their sheer will to fight a hopeless fight which caused him to wonder what they saw worth in that he didn't. He had joined the cult as misguided as the others. Eager to believe themselves rightfully superior, just because they sought to be. Strong, by striking down the weak. Defying the blind acceptance of all other institutions, by blindly supporting their own. He had been a true believer.

The breton again broke the silence, "Wait, a 'chance'? You didn't,- you all heard it too?". The shared glances and a few nods confirmed all had heard a voice as paradise fell around them. The Imperial at her side took his own turn to speak up, indicating towards the corpse; "I don't know what town this is, but I think it best we hide that."

2.

- "There is a reason in your coming to me Lord Sheogorath? I have little time for games," began the daedra.

"Games? Oh my no, odd that you should have no time though. Aetherius has lots of time. Sheep too, but that might be wrong. And who doesn't like _games_? I hear there are a lot being played right now and you had the dice. Or was that the Knight?"

It was with little surprise she received this implication, and he continued, his accented tone ranging back and forth wildly between conversational, loudly jovial and darkly serious. "I'm not here for any reason, _useless_ stuff you know. Life's much more interesting without it. I'm here to confess I'm _insanely_ in love with you. You don't believe that? No, I don't either. You see I just came to inform you there are a few more participants now. But _I'm not a messenger_ my dear. I did however come to see how it all plays out. While I have time…."

"You've discovered how to access the rift then," stated Azura, "and want to provoke a response?"

"Yes! That must be why. Not that it isn't public knowledge now. Or so a little bird tells me. Makes you wonder why Hermaeus Mora is suddenly lending books out, when he's not usually the sort to share. How decent of him! The Magnus Xarxes is a _great_ read, isn't it? Particularly when it can affect that rip through the fabric of Oblivion Magnus left, clumsy fellow. Of course its not very smart of us all to play so near the lair of a sleeping dragon, or draw on it's power to hop star to star, but who am I to discourage glorious madness?"

Irritation was as much as Azura would let through her calm mask, but a change of demeanour none the less. "Foolishness. Who would know of the rift yet reveal a secret of such potential? Hermaeus limited access to the book as it was."

Sheogorath's teeth gleamed as he grinned, "Ah, that would be Unknowable, wouldn't you think? But I expect when the secrets are _not_ your own, but lifted from the shadows of the moon itself, even the most subtle of us might have to let slip the feat. -_Can't boast without telling anyone_!"

Azura, understanding now, was fuming. Like an afterthought as he turned to leave Sheogorath paused, and looked up at the clouds, "Funny though that the old keeper hasn't used the Xarxes himself, if he could. So _very decent_ of him to let everyone else have it. Maybe we can help him overcome whatever is the barrier to his unlocking the way too. Maybe we all already are." -

* * *

Author's Notes: Hope my Lore awareness isn't too iffy!

1. 'A little bird' refers to a great little story in the Sixteen Accords of Madness. (Volume VI: Hircine's Tale).  
2. Azura's realm is called Moonshadow.  
3. Most of the gods have allies and enemies. Sheogorath straight-out tells Azura who spied on and stole information from her. –Most of the gods are also known by multiple names and titles.


	18. Chapter 18

3.

Menien placed the book back on the table and rubbed his eyes. It was taking time to decipher but he was making steady progress, and it gave him new purpose seeing as he couldn't go back to his old life as a guard. He'd seen enough of the attack to know there wouldn't be much left of Kvatch to go back to.

Over a month now. At least the guards here hadn't kept him in long once they understood he wasn't a criminal, or at least couldn't find proof. The people in charge had even helped him with this temporary accommodation, until he could find new employment. He was being kept watch over, with regular visits to the small residence, but didn't mind that since it was mainly really to help him integrate into life here. And it was company. What had begun as suspicion of him had developed more into a cautious pity, then to a sort of friendship with a few.

Still felt strange to be in a town where basically no weapons were allowed. Which was how he found himself in a cell almost as soon as he arrived, thanks to that accursed gate throwing him gods-know-where this was. His bloody sword confiscated, and nearly two weeks before he was able to explain his story to their satisfaction. He could understand why it took so long and why they didn't believe him at first, especially with the language barrier. But apparently what saved him was their specialist scholars who had studied the blood on the sword, discovering it not to be human, and therefore not a potential murder. Although they had released him, that discovery had itself led to a lot more questioning, through the same slow means of miming, picture cards, very poor drawing on his part, and a few learnt words which were increasing with these studies. The book was for children. But it served its purpose, and he was a fast learner.

The visits took on a new importance once that idiotic Dunmer showed up in the next town. Now you'd think a Dunmer turning up would be nothing to shout about. But for the fact there were no Dunmer here. None of any other race but human. This had taken Menien a fair few days to suspect, never mind believe. But everything was different here. He had to laugh when he heard just how fast the Dunmer had learned that. All of five seconds after appearing he'd run out onto a road. Bad idea without looking; a car hit him.

Lingering doubts over his own sanity had transformed into real curiosity and interest from these people overnight, especially once he persuaded them to let him talk to Valen Dreth in the hospital. Another strange thing; no healing altars, or even proper healers.

So there Dreth was, at one point having been tied to the bed after he first woke, shouting elven abuse, whining and trying to fight his way out. It took Menien to convince him they were trying to help, not torture him. The behaviour turned to happily demanding, complaining about everything from the food to the pillows, and trying to seduce the female staff. It was a lucky thing they didn't understand most of what he said.

Oddly Dreth hadn't been anywhere near a gate when he was sent here. He said he was being chased by some sort of attacker, (or more likely guards as Menien suspected, -he knew Dreth's 'sort') and he fell into some old stone ruins. But he had landed on grass, opening his eyes to the glare of daylight. All he noticed before arriving was what he thought was a distant female laugh as he fell.

Menien wasn't enamoured with visiting the hospital at first, travelling in a machine to sit in a room full of noisy machines just to share a fool's company. He was even requested to undergo his own share of 'tests' himself, which meant being poked and prodded, stabbed with needles, and introduced to a further array of machines. It was, he could admit, truly impressive what humankind here had accomplished when left alone by all but apparently one (he wasn't sure which) god. All but for their cheer and honest friendliness he likened the place to a lair of necromancers, more brightly lit but still tampering with bodies.

It was thanks to yet another machine, and it seemed one of the most popular, that he and Dreth were directed to learn they were both becoming somewhat famous, especially the elf. Menien was confounded. Dreth was thrilled.

He had been avoiding TV's since he first viewed one, the shock of it! Even with the basic science explained it was hard to accept there wasn't some magic involved in the viewing screens. Most machines were even so complex the majority of people couldn't begin to explain the methods of manufacture. At least he could retreat indoors for some peace from the sight and sound of cars, and aircraft flying far overhead. –Why did there have to be TVs in almost every room? Even the hospital! But he was getting accustomed to it, as such a well of information and stories. Dreth was instantly fixated to the thing. At least he was beginning to take his English lessons seriously once he knew he could profit with the shameless attention and fame. And as much as the staff seemed to tolerate him, they did seem happy it kept him quiet for a while.

As his repertoire grew the Imperial came to understand that the images on posters and TV news both of them recognised as the 'Hero of Kvatch', as Dreth had heard stories of, were actually missing person notices. No wonder the poor bastard had looked more scared witless than heroic to him. Shortly after explaining what little they both knew in tedious repeated detail, news reached TV and couriers who became excited anew.

This was of huge interest to people everywhere now, partly because these events were beginning to occur all over the world, in slowly increasing number. What was thought to be a new species of crocodile attacking a farm's animals in Australia, turned out to be a Daedroth. The weaponry the authorities used to 'put it down', a more mechanical version of a crossbow, was certainly interesting. So, Menien had thought; they weren't completely defenceless at least.

Then came the fully armoured legionnaire found riding down a main roadway in France. He reluctantly stood down to the authorities only once Menien was volunteered to be flown over to tactfully talk the man into surrendering his weapons and reporting to the people in charge. There were no Imperial outposts here. Thankfully the French had kindly avoided harming the soldier by attempting force to disarm or apprehend him unless they had to, and the cheering crowd that formed as he and his gendarme escort reached the nearest small town had him unable to move on quickly anyway. Unwilling to abandon his horse just yet, thanks to the mayor's improvised road-block of cars and tractors, he was delayed long enough for his fellow Imperial to be rushed over.

Menien had nearly instantly regretted the arrangement of travel by airplane across the channel of sea, but found himself fascinated once taken to the airport with his diplomatically arranged temporary 'passport', and he wasn't about to embarrass himself by backing out in fear. Plus the crew had been made aware of his inexperience encountering nearly all machines, and he found that the hostesses thoughtfully did their best to calm nerves he was trying not to show. He conversed as best he could, and one was even seated beside him during take off and landing.

Only after this first face to face meeting did the fellow agree to talk across telephone in future when needed. He had decided in the end to stay in the country he first found himself in, taking a similar offer of accommodation to Menien's. There was another of the world's many languages of man in this country, but Menien found not only provision of a translator to English, but also that some people were now eagerly learning Cyrodilic from what little had been passed onto the public. While Dreth sought easy fame Menien continued his studies with the eventual aim of writing a guide on basic Cyrodilic to English, as he was advised this would both sell well and help future 'travellers', or aliens as some fairly argued.

No one had yet figured out how and why exactly all this was happening. The various scholarly scientific communities theorized wildly, of wormholes in space, faster than light travel, possible nearby ships or habitats in range of this planet. They were even trying to explain the origins and possible basis of magic. The most popular theory was airborne microscopic nanites, even atomic levels and biological components in technology. Tiny machines, of course that's what they'd conclude!

Again what no one was able yet to explain was the disturbingly accurate historical, geographical, social, and even _current_ descriptions of Tamriel that it emerged had existed for years as part of some kind of interactive game. And what had happened to Julian Hawkes, the member of the development team who had in the past week, vanished without warning or explanation. When the police investigators began to look into this, they found something of a surprise. –No evidence of family to contact, falsified educational and employment references, a false identity. No evidence even of food in his house, or signs he had bought any, and sparse furnishings that included no bed.

As soon as he learned of all of this when news reports revealed the connection, Menien requested a summary of the most recent events in Tamriel and on Nirn to be included in the content Hawkes had influenced. The rest of the team and company claimed to have been completely unaware, and provided as much material as they could to help.

* * *

Author's Notes:

1. In Oblivion, when given to Mehrunes Dagon by Hermaeus Mora, the 'Oghma Infinium' (written by the great wizard Xarxes) enabled him to write the 'Mysterium Xarxes'. But what interest did Hermaeus have in giving it? As a trope it would fit within the basis of the "Thirty-Six Stratagems" (i.e. The Art of War/Sun Tzu), as a few of them could be seen to apply. To word it bluntly; letting others do your dirty work so you can reap the rewards, and letting enemies fight among themselves, (to think that ultimately Akatosh was forced to intercede).

In my fan-fic I wanted to expand on this idea. Again other gods are expending energies and taking the risks, drawing on Aetherius' power to manipulate a passage through space-time via Magnus to Sol. (Aetherius is the realm of Akatosh/Alduin and is related to time itself, as evident in causing the 'Warp in the West'). If in the gods' desires or interests they could be potentially strengthening and expanding this new rift. Then he helps more gods separately gain access, causing infighting, yet comes away from all this both mainly unnoticed and smelling of roses, which for a giant squid-crab is pretty good. Consequently also a 'Magnificent Bastard' trope.

2. This unstable effect of Aetherius could also explain another thing; the Elder Scrolls themselves. Prophecy of the future. As with my twist on the Elder Scrolls games; with the mysterious 'Julian Hawkes' arriving after events described in 'Oblivion', yet before those same events had begun according to the following travellers. Another nod to lore here (nearly head-banging by now); the Aedra god Julianos was named for the original creator of the series, Julian Lefay. Julianos is the Cyrodilic god of literature, law, history, and _contradiction_; and monastic orders dedicated to Juliannos were the keepers of the scrolls. 'Jon Hawker', in the previous game in the series, Morrowind, was a manifestation of the god Zenithar. Hence the name. Since Julianos was felt to be a benevolent deity, his intention in subtly placing information would be to prepare people for these highly probable future incursions. The first of these to follow clearly being Azura's game of semi benevolent people tossing.

My OC Hero of Kvatch is to remain a suitably nameless nobody.

3. Poor Dreth! Hehehe. Obviously anything he knew of events would have been overheard from guards. Guards in Cyrodiil do love to gossip. Although originally only planning a short mention of Menien Goneld but he became too good as a central character whose POV (point of view) I enjoyed trying to imagine.

Chapter to be continued on next page.


	19. Chapter 19

3. (cont.)

And now Menien found his help requested again. Within reason the officials had reservations in involving him this time. He considered, and responded that he was a reasonable man, and in the interests of both worlds would hear out these latest travellers, and mediate as a translator.

Across the ocean in a region of America called the United States, a whole group had materialised at once in a large town. Some had been found in the past few days. It was only following the discovery of a body in a dumpster on the edge of town, and the subsequent beginnings of a murder enquiry, which led to the discovery of most of the rest hiding in the nearby woodlands. They hadn't been there long, and the investigators found them to be mainly traumatised and hungry, having peacefully retreated to the safety of the local woods in order to more carefully observe this strange place before considering their options.

The Altmer spokesperson was co-operative, and more adaptive than average in being willing to speak via a telephone or web-cam. But it was agreed with the success of his assistance previously, Menien would once again be flown to talk directly and translate for the group and law officials. Dreth couldn't care less, but both Menien and his friend the misplaced legion soldier were relieved about the news of the situation in Tamriel, and also extremely concerned about this latest development. The group were Mythic Dawn, or apparently former now. Their presence and story was confirming some of the latest events Hawkes had foretold.

Of the rest of the group who were scattered across the town that night, some were found in a sorry state by locals and police, and a few were reported by the concerned pastor of the central church when he found the ragged visitors praying dejectedly to the wall hangings depicting various saints. A couple were even found in a brightly lit late night fast-food outlet, having stared through the ceiling to floor windows then been drawn in by curiosity and the smell of food, but clearly with no money. Neither knew the local language, so they just milled around and stared in awe at the lit up signs and plastic furnishings. An equally curious patron took pity after a while, handing them a tray of the unusual cuisine.

Of the remainder it was evident some were still loyal to the evil cult, as the rapidly descending TV cameras had witnessed. As the late night police shift began to realise this was a 'world crossing' incident, and moved to call in support and co-ordinate the patient round up of the individuals to hospital and an emergency shelter, it transpired that some were neither willing nor friendly.

Ruma and Raven Cameron still had enough supporters left that they decided to attempt violent resistance with the police, after being encountered as they were trying to bring others they found back under their command by force. By this time already working to track down all the arrivals, officers called for backup and tried to intercede on the small group surrounding a man, some of whom were wielding what appeared to be spiked clubs.

As the cops in turn came under attack themselves the man took his chance to run, but the officers had to retreat fast to their two cars, frantically calling for more backup as the lightning shots hit the nearest car, partially melting the side window and inflicting burns on the man who had just made it inside. The group closed in, most of them suddenly clad in armour. Horrific creatures appeared from nowhere, attacking the cars at the grey skinned elf's direction.

In the end it took two riot vans and a SWAT team to end the confrontation, three officers dead and five of the seven cult members, including Harrow and Raven. Her last supporter abandoned his position only to be apprehended as he tried to flee. Ruma surrendered.

Menien's mood was grave as he watched the repeated news clips. This had been no misunderstanding with the language barrier, as the few phrases relayed to a negotiator to shout in Cyrodilic were met with what he recognised to be slogans. "For Lord Dagon!", "Our master sends us to claim our new world!", and "This is only the beginning..." Should have damn well shot them all, thought Menien. And now this second group, who had left town under cover of shadow while all eyes were drawn to the fight. Claiming the gods were giving them the chance to repent and atone? There _are_ no second chances for those who serve Dagon!

* * *

Menien Goneld arrived in a media storm. Fortunately after passport control and customs he and his entourage were ushered quickly past the cameras by security. Debate was raging over what to do with these, and future travellers. With no way to send them back where they came from, concessions had to be made. And having committed no crimes in any country on Earth there were legal barriers to their arrest. Laws on 'human' rights were even facing being reworded.

From his hospital bed Valen Dreth had watched the TV with veiled interest as Menien entered the meeting room with the officials and former cultists. He nearly fell out of the bed laughing as he punched the air with his good arm, hugely entertained by the sight of the Imperial leaping past the Altmer's minders to thump him in the face, shortly before the guards tackled him to the ground. Dreth was impressed. Never knew the man could be so energetic, still shouting as they dragged him from the room. The news reporters were having trouble translating all but what could be recognized as "Kvatch", as Dreth listened. "You think you bastards can get away with this? What about everyone in Kvatch? Do they get a second chance too?..."

What ultimately swayed the media and public opinion, as well as Menien's view of him, was when Eldamil conferred with his people then insisted on another face-to-face meeting. This time Menien was kept under tighter control. The officials were stunned as this time, it was Eldamil's group who acted, without warning and all at once diving across the room to wrestle with the guards long enough to block their reaction to what Eldamil did.

A redguard member of the group had kept her spell-casting ability quiet until now, and in the moment the group made their move she wrenched a gun from the holster of a federal agent across the room, throwing it with telekinesis to Eldamil. As the Imperial's guards were distracted by the others, Eldamil clicked the safety and approached the man, who was glowering intensely as he stood his ground. Their exchange was only later translated, as the Altmer spoke. By then the guards were already almost back in control of the room, and two had raised their weapons to Eldamil, shouting "Drop the weapon!" in English and "Yield! Yield!" in Cyrodilic.

Then, bowing his head, Eldamil handed Menien the gun. Shock and disbelief in the man's face, he hesitated. The guards barely knew who to aim at, now shouting at Menien as he stood with the gun pointed at the unresisting mer. The redguard spellcaster was crying silently. Those left able were placing themselves to stand between Menien and the armed guards.

This mer was offering no excuses, no expectations, but begging Menien not to judge the others. Just him. Let him go to the lowest reaches of the void; atone in place of the others. Doubt crossed his features, but how could he let this go? Menien pulled the trigger.

* * *

The federal officer in charge later joked to media he needed a holiday after that meeting. Because it hadn't ended there. Eldamil didn't die. Unnoticed until she stepped out, with perfect precision of timing and grace, the woman with a kind smiling face, dressed in a simple dark grey skirt-suit, was stood facing Menien as the gun fired. The impact hit, but as red extended across her front she did not stagger, and her expression did not change.

One hand rose as if in benediction, and the weapons simultaneously flew in pieces from the guards hands before they could react. He and Eldamil caught her as she sank down. Menien had dropped the weapon and was on his knees in horror and despair in front of her. Pain touched her face, but he knew it was not for herself, when in Cyrodilic her voice filled the room as if from a loudspeaker, with an oddly joyful and chiding tone as she said, "Both of you. All of you. Live!"

As her breathing slowed, and the Americans began to push through the crowd to deal with this strange wounded being, they gently laid her down. An ambulance was called, but by the time medics arrived she was gone. In a warm, then overwhelming glow, vanished.

Still on his knees Menien choked and began to sob, "Mara….."

* * *

Author's Notes: The 'no second chances' line is based Harrow's dialogue to the player when dealing with your entry into the Mythic Dawn as a member.  
Eldamil knowing the basics of gun use enough to click the safety would be thanks to having seen it on TV. For example news reports showing the fight with Ruma.

Next chapter; epilogue of the epilogue…


	20. Chapter 20

Author's Note: Final Chapter. Please be aware of spoilers if you post a review, but if you got this far please post one, really appreciated!

* * *

4.

In the years that followed an increasing number of travellers and unnatural occurrences were to be witnessed around the world, some helpful or harmless, some not. The effect was to change everything. In acknowledgment of the dedication and advances humans on Earth had made throughout their history to heal and cure all forms of suffering, Mara had appeared one again, briefly and wordlessly. In front of the hospital the medics had been sent from, and when she vanished a stone altar was left behind where she had stood. A recognition of kindness on having seen the officials and medics rush in to save her human manifestation.

Everywhere throughout the world people began to build altars in the same style, in hospitals and holy places. Not all were accepted by the divines, particularly poor or mocking designs, or where political agendas or limited access were involved, so not all worked. Also it was apparent only one per town or area would receive the attention of these Aedra beings. The main church of a small South African town was the first believed to have installed a successful stone-carved altar, after the people there diplomatically promoted Mara as an angel and miracle sent by God.

In Rome it was debated whether to make all the Aedric 'gods' saints, although their acts and miracles had been on another world. Most other religions varyingly decided to term the Aedra as 'Great Spirits', and the governing and scientific institutions as 'extremely advanced aliens'. Where some decided it would be against their religion to promote worship of these beings, altars were usually confined to hospitals, and carefully termed with names such as 'fonts of healing'.

While Valen Dreth sold access to his presence, life-story and DNA (to those with the cash and desire to delve into such an extended lifespan), he revelled in the limelight with a celebrity popularity that astounded Menien. The former guard retired to a more peaceful life as a writer. He was proud to hear people enjoyed his writings on life in Tamriel and his knowledge of its history, as well as his views and experiences on Earth. The 'foreign legionnaire', as he had affectionately become known, had a little more difficulty settling into life at first, before finding employment as a warehouse guard, and was even considering joining his adopted country's 'legion' the last time they spoke.

At the behest of his friends as well as the Americans, Eldamil was encouraged to become an ambassador for the United Nations, as officially as was felt possible, for the many incoming travellers to Earth. He tended to shy from all but the more necessary camera appearances though, and kept in touch with Menien, who had commented he was honestly glad he had not been able to kill his mer friend, or at least not this one! Based on Eldamil's and the others' descriptions, at Menien's suggestion a statue was erected of the Hero of Kvatch, who he had been happy to hear from them was still alive. He mused to himself that it must be quite the unexpected adventure, and hoped one day to personally shake hands if this unusual champion was ever sent back to this world. Thank Talos the Earthborn had toughened up.

* * *

However the Aedra weren't the only ones gaining rapid interest. Cults around all the Daedra Lords, including those who had not made any apparent visits, were springing up, openly and in secret. Sheogorath was one of the most popular, especially when a black and yellow eyed gentleman was spotted by a keen observer in a small crowd, as news reported on a bizarre accident at a dairy produce factory. While some declared it to be one of the many known hoaxes made by ordinary individuals, it was investigated.

Ruma Cameron under high security and in solitary confinement had gained her own following on the internet. The other prisoner outright abandoned her though, eventually gaining parole after a few years on the basis he had been coerced. What wasn't made public was the work the authorities had for him on his release, and his involvement in the new events that would follow.

Groups formed of the malcontent, dissident, and anarchistic, as well as those simply following a popular trend or desiring to be a supporter of lesser known ways. Through communications the establishment sensibly tried to limit as completely as possible, Ruma declared herself leader of the New Mythic Dawn, to all who were visionary enough to recognise her rightful authority and the supremacy of the Dawn's doctrine.

Although some were disturbed by the infamy of this new cult and its unofficial following, it was generally felt to be a harmless and naïve fad, with a desperately deluded leader simply unable to face the loss of her family, master, home and power. Until the first Oblivion gate appeared in Sweden.

No-one was prepared, and as armed forces were rushed in and the United Nations issued an unprecedented worldwide high alert, Gothenburg was already burning, a Great Gate in it's centre. The next reported gates were in the bush in Australia, not near any town but still spilling out daedric creatures, bloodgrass sprouting around it; and then at the prison of Ruma Cameron, stood in the ruins of the outer wall itself.

Mostly the emerging cults lost their support more rapidly than they had first gained it, fragmented and dissapeared. Some that remained went underground, as people worldwide began to shut down, punish, or persecute Daedra worshippers. In some cases Aedra worshippers too.

Gates were soon appearing everywhere, and too many goverments were ill-prepared, too slow to act, or working with too few resources to possibly protect more than limited areas. People massed to areas viewed to be better defended or defensible. Fighting and looting broke out as too many amassed in some areas and food ran short as global supply and transport struggled, more thanks to the panic than the gates. And it was soon realised, that although the initial means for the gates had somehow been sent from the other world, possibly even Oblivion itself, there were cultists taking action on Earth.

As cameras in England reported on latest worldwide events with Trafalgar square as a background, two men came out of the gathered crowd. One held aloft a long staff, with a large glowing black orb at the top. People knew enough to panic and run…

In a Wisconsin town in the US a student had turned up at his college in red robes one day, summoning a gate before stepping through. Police later found New Dawn material in his room at the parents house. His parents themselves were said to be missing, presumed dead. He was, according to survivors, an awkward social outcast who had boasted in days prior that he was a proud member of the Dawn. He was just laughed at as a fantasist. No-one had taken much notice.

People quickly began to wonder; how long before Dagon, having been prevented from taking Tamriel and Nirn, stood on the Earth? There were no shields against such a crossing for Earth, only the greater distance which seemed to be keeping larger movements at bay. But since the beginning, numbers of people and creatures sent had steadily increased over the years, until the actual gates had become possible to call forth. The higher daedric beings were looking keenly to reach across in person.

Poorly co-ordinated at first, and seeing there weren't the available resources to defend everyone, and even struggling with training the sheer number of new recruits to armed forces, governments and the UN began to react and plan. In countries where weapons were previously banned, the laws were modified and relaxed for 'the duration of the emergency'. Increased production began in guarded factories. Populations were provided arms under licence as quickly as they could be made, minimum age varying by country. Some even allowed cases where under eights could be allowed a gun if they could pass tests to prove capability and competence in handling newly designed 'kid-friendly guns'. National broadcasts instructed on how to use and maintain the government issue weapons, provided information on where different species of daedra had known weaker points to aim for if combat could not be avoided, and advised on strategies for defending in groups and for isolated individuals. Instruction was broadened to include children's programmes for various ages, adjusted so familiar loved characters cheerily and earnestly taught how to run, hide, and get to safety in the event of daedra attacks. Too many children had died already.

Military enlistment was bought into effect in some countries, but it was mainly proving unnecessary due to already soaring armed forces numbers worldwide, partially thanks the growing number of survivors of ravaged towns and cities joining to avenge their loss, of loved ones and of homes. The successfully sent seige crawlers took a lot of firepower to stop in time. Other people were joining to protect what was left, or to simply escape the ranks of starving and vulnerable displaced populations. All attempts at negotiation had failed, ignored or laughed at. Every nation on Earth declared war.

An alliance of countries including Russia, the US, the UAE, China, India, and the European Military Commission worked together on a project to adapt reconnaissance planes and fighter jets to be taken into gates. Part of the difficulty in this was living people had to touch the gates to walk through with such objects, so they couldn't simply be launched or flown through without emerging on the other side still on Earth. Then there was how to take-off and land in Oblivion to be retrieved again, with varied terrain and space tending to prevent landing near the gate. Nuclear options were also considered, and tested.

Unknown to many, in China, a new tactic was being brought into play, other than the usual armed forces assaults inside gates to close them down. Some of the Chinese New Dawn dissidents were coming _back_ through the gates, often having taken the orb to close the gate behind them. Information was being gathered, specimens obtained, spies had been placed. Magical items bought back to be studied. In addition, attempts were being made to reach Tamriel from Earth through Oblivion. A veiled goal beyond just victory was being sought.

Other powerful individuals and nations took notice, and made similar plans. It was to take many years but a race between powers had begun, with Mehrunes Dagon himself the ambitious and audacious ultimate target. Believed to be an 'immortal', but it was agreed he had to die, and a way would be found. But what was also sought once those in power began to grasp the possibilities, was his remains. Specifically the heart. Some were looking at the bigger picture further than the defence of Earth, going so far as to conclude that to accomplish this would ultimately require Dagon personally reaching Earth.

Earth was joining the arena.

END.

* * *

Author's Notes: The nameless prisoner is simply a reference to a version of the main protagonist in each Elder Scrolls game, this time on Earth, so his story is only hinted at and not expanded on.

Another trope: Children are immortal. Refers to the much argued realism versus moral implications of featuring child characters in open ended video games, especially where realistic games sometimes allow the killing of non-player characters. Two ways developers have gotten around this is by either unrealistically not including ANY children, or making them invincible to your own attacks, leading to some bizarre game play.

When wiki-ing European military I found the 'EU military staff' has a pretty cool design for its arms/shield. Nearly called the alliance the European Military Union, but that would make it the acronym EMU.

Why the heart of a god? The heart of Lorkhan enabled the three in the Tribunal in Morrowind to become 'gods'.

Arena: The first of the Elder Scrolls series of games. Also how Tamriel was described when in the past it was engulfed in war.

I also tend to feel insulted by stories promising explanations and endings which prove to have been non-existant at the time they were promised, and usually given in the form of last minute 'the truth is out there' endings. I'm fairly proud how the story meshed together, and I hope you enjoyed the references to 'tropes', and attention to detail based on lore.


End file.
